Birth and Re-Death
by ThreeDollarBratwurst
Summary: I swear, every time I turn around, someone else has got a clever idea to get me killed. And it usually works. Death doesn't seem too keen on sticking with me, though, so I guess I can get over it. Self-insert, mostly for fun. Rated T for now, might change in future.
1. Ch 1: At Least the Robe Is Cool

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 1: At Least the Robe Is Cool**

When I wake up, I am surprised to find myself slumped over in a wildly uncomfortable barstool. Everything is exceedingly hazy, but through the haze I feel an ache through each of my poor vertebrae. How on earth had I fallen asleep in that position?

"How on earth did I fall asleep in that position?" I ask out loud as my vision comes into focus. I am indeed seated at a bar, and a pretty old-timey looking one at that. The bartender gives me a disgruntled snort. He is very large, and very mustachioed.

"Hell if I know. Yeh came in as soon as I opened the place, ordered one drink, and were asleep before I could pour it," he says, his voice sounding like he gargles pebbles for fun.

I don't remember that at all. I don't know this bar, or why I would have started day-drinking. That doesn't sound like me. "Did I say anything aside from that?" I ask, a little mumbly from the lingering tiredness.

"Not a word. Well, unless you count the snoring," the bartender replies. Right. Perfect.

"Okay, next, and there's no way to ask this without shaming myself: where is this exactly?" I ask.

"Hah, you're pretty messed in the head," the bartender chuckles. "Southeast side of town, near the river."

What river? What town? I'm very confused. "I'm very confused," I admit shamefully.

The bartender sighs. "You don't look like a local. Maybe you're from out of town. You're in Southtown."

"Southtown...where?"

"What?"

"I've never heard of Southtown. What state are we in?" Did I really go that far from home? My head hurts.

"State? Well, I'm in pretty good shape, but I'm not so sure about you," he replies. Oh ha ha. A comedian. Nice.

"Fine, you don't wanna help, I'll just-" I stop mid-sentence, as I reach down and find my phone isn't in my pocket. Also, these pants feel weird. I look down at myself. "Waaaah!"

"What? What? Did you get sick in your lap or something?" the bartender asks.

"When did I change into goddamn Renfest clothes?" I ask nobody in particular.

"What's a Renfest?" he asks, cocking his head slightly. I spring out of my seat, turning around a few times to get a better look at myself. Something is definitely up.

I am not supposed to be this tall. I won't complain, of course, but I am definitely like four or five inches taller than I'm meant to be. And holy hell, but I seem to have lost a strange amount of weight. I'd say my waist looks downright average, which is a marked improvement. Is this just lingering drunken confidence?

My clothes are also quite different than anything I remember owning. I am wearing robes, honest to god robes, and they're honestly pretty fancy. Black for a base, with dark blue trim and accents. There's a small shoulder shroud, also black with blue trim. The black leather belt matches my boots. I'm not gonna lie; this getup looks pretty sweet.

Not that it wasn't raising dozens of questions by the minute. I shoved as many into the back of my head as I could. "So, uh, did I come in with anything else?" I finally settle on asking. Maybe my phone is in my bag or something and I can get a grip on what's going on.

"Yeah, here," he says, disappearing below the bar for a moment and returning with a canvas sack and what appears to be a staff. Like, a full-size staff, a much better-looking prop than I'd ever pay for sober. Was I drunk cosplaying or something? I look through the sack and find, weirdly, a bunch of camping supplies. Am I on a trip or something? That doesn't sound right. I repack the sack and sling it over my shoulder for now.

"So, I didn't say anything to you as I came in?" I ask once more. He shakes his head as I pick up the staff. It's heavier than I thought it would be. Is this made of actual metal? It also feels kinda like it's vibrating in my hand as I hold it, but so faintly that it's more like a vague tingling sensation. Also, the orb-looking thing on top of it had a small light shining in it. This really was an expensive prop. "I think I'm gonna try and get my bearings outside a little bit. Thanks," I say. He grunts a farewell as I open the door and step outside.

Oh.

I think I'm starting to get it.

"So when he said Southtown, he meant…" I say to myself as I take in the scene before me. True to his word, we are near a babbling river, on the other side of which are a multitude of townsfolk. But these weren't the kind of folk I'm used to. This is an honest-to-god medieval town, with horse-drawn carriages and a big well and everything. "But that would…" My brain moves in so many directions that it simply cancels out for a while, and I stand there stupidly while my psyche catches up.

The question of "why?" comes up a few times, but gets quickly dismissed on the grounds that I have no way of figuring that out. I eventually decide to settle on what I know before getting into anything I don't.

This really does look like Southtown as I remember it, which suggests this really is Ylisse.

I am in what I have been led to believe is a fictional town.

It is very much not a fictional town anymore, as I am standing in it.

Holy shit! I'm _in_ a Fire Emblem town!

I don't look like I normally do, and my clothes have definitely changed.

However, I maintain the self-awareness to know I don't normally belong here.

This is starting to feel a little bit cliched. I hope the feeling doesn't last.

I have what I have now decided is a real healing staff.

I woke up a healer? Lame.

Whenever I thought about what I would wanna do as an FE character, I always figured I'd be a merc. Good all-around stats, some of the game's best skills, and they get _swords_. Sign me the hell up.

I let myself get distracted for a while, thinking on that, when a new thought hits me. When is this? The town looks intact, which means we aren't under attack yet. But is that because this is early, or much later after rebuilding?

My question is answered when I hear a scream from somewhere on the other side of the river. A building starts to smoke and within moments is up in open flames. My legs don't know what to do. About a minute later, I see a few men with axes storming up the street, chasing a small crowd of townsfolk to the north side of town. Before I have time to process what's going on, I hear another crash to my left as more bandits enter from the southeast.

My legs decide what to do. I run as quickly as I can up the road, crossing the bridge and trying to draw as little attention as possible. As I do so, I start to realize what their idea seems to be. They're funneling everyone into the large church on the north side of town, probably to keep them-

My thoughts were interrupted by a villager in front of my being shredded with wind magic. _Crap, I forgot they have mages_. That's also a lot more blood than I was expecting. The same mage sends a blast at me. Before I can move, it hits me. However, I'm surprised to find that although I stagger a little, and my face gets a small cut or two, it doesn't really hurt that much. Certainly not enough to slice and dice me like this poor guy in front of me.

"Haha, that's right! Healers get super resistance!" I cheer, more to myself than anyone. Annoyed, he levels another wind blade in my direction. It too catches me, stinging a little but not putting me in real danger. Without thinking, I stalk over to him as he prepares another blast and, turning my staff over in my hands, hit him upside the head with the bottom end. Ooo, right in the temple. Yeah, he's down. Probably alive, but not feeling too good. I didn't know that was allowed, though. Did I break some rule by hitting him back? I don't think healers are supposed to hit back.

Shrugging, I decide it's probably best to hide until the Shepherds arrive. _Aaaah, am I going to meet the Shepherds?_ I take refuge behind a small retaining wall and watch cautiously as the overrunning of the town progresses. I consider trying to help the townsfolk, but decide I'm not much of a match for a large band of thieves just yet.

By the time the Shepherds arrive, the streets are mostly empty, with most of the townsfolk having been forced into the church to be presumably held hostage or sold or something. But arrive they do, and quickly make it clear they're a force to be reckoned with. Seconds after Chrom comes into view, he relieves an unwary bandit of his head and continues to charge in.

"Oh," I say out loud. "That's not rated T at all." The Shepherds fan out, with Frederick expertly corralling the bandits with his formidable lance into the central square, while Chrom stands ready to receive them with his gleaming blade and Robin provides covering fire with her Thunder tome. She looks pretty much like the default female model, far as I can tell. Wow, that hair is white.

I realize that this strategy puts a lot of faith in Chrom's ability to take them down as they come to avoid getting overwhelmed. However, whenever Chrom doesn't take one down right away, Robin is waiting in the wings to finish the job (no doubt hogging all the exp while she does so. I know I'm guilty of overpowering my Robin in the early game). I imagine that's what a pair-up looks like in real life.

I reflect for a second on the use of the phrase 'real life' in describing what's going on before me. My head still kind of hurts when I do that.

It looks like the fight is going well without me, but then a bandit slips past Frederick's horse and moves to charge at Lissa, waiting in the wings to provide healing. I realize too late that he is going to get her before the others can stop him. I start running toward her, but he's already getting ready to swing.

"Lissa, look out!" I cry as I sprint toward her. She turns toward me for a moment, searching for the source of the shout, but seeing me pointing behind her, turns just in time to raise her staff and almost block the strike. His axe is slowed but far from stopped, and she still receives a glancing blow on her shoulder. She cries out in pain, but in an instant Robin is there, stabbing the man through the abdomen.

Robin turns to me. "Who are you?" she asks.

I ponder for a moment. "A friend," I eventually say. "Let me see her." Lissa turns to me, and taking a closer look, her eyes light up.

"Oh, good. Another healer. It's pretty stressful doing this on my own," she says, wincing every few seconds at the pain of her shoulder wound but taking it generally like a trooper. She looks from me to the wound and back to me, an expectant look on her face.

I realize I don't know how staves work. I hope it just kind of comes naturally. I hold the staff aloft, like I remember healers doing in-game, and mentally ask the staff to obey my commands, please. By a massive stroke of luck, it seems to react, with the orb shining and a soft ringing sound emitting from it. The faint tingling vibration intensifies, and somehow I know to point the staff at Lissa's shoulder. I feel almost as though I am pushing the light out of the staff somehow; it's pretty hard to explain. The light from the staff bounds out of the orb and encircles her, and after a few seconds it dissipates.

She grins at me. "Thanks!" she says, and we return to battle. Robin and Chrom seem totally unperturbed by my joining. I wonder if Robin thinks I know the rest of them. Now that there are two healers with the Shepherds, the battle becomes much easier. Each of us focuses on healing one of the pair, with Lissa handling Chrom's wounds and me handling Robin's. Frederick needs no help. He's Frederick. With everyone at full fighting strength, no more of the enemy's fighters break through the ranks until we reach the massive bridge at the center of town.

A large group of bandits stand together on the bridge, bracing for the Shepherds to meet them. A few myrmidons, a few fighters, and is that-

"Mage!" Robin calls too late as a blade of wind blasts toward us from behind the wall of bandits. I've only got a fraction of a second to act, but I manage just barely to jump headlong into the blast, allowing it to hit me and throw me backwards. Chrom and Lissa yell in surprise and alarm, but I quickly get up, with only a couple tiny cuts to show for it. High resistance is awesome.

Upon establishing I am okay, the group swiftly springs into action. Robin starts laying down lightning bolts across the line to throw the group in disarray and force them to break ranks, while Chrom and Frederick take advantage of the chaos by picking them off, one by one as they break away from the pack. Soon, we are down to the leader.

He proves a great deal tougher than his lackeys, dodging back and forth between both Frederick's lunges and Chrom's heavy swiping attacks. Wherever there's an opening, Robin throws a Thunder bolt into the mix, but this guy proves surprisingly tough. I wonder faintly if we are in a Lunatic playthrough.

Suddenly, he rears back and flings his axe at Robin. I remember too late that he's packing handaxes, and before I can react, it's burrowed into her collarbone. My mind goes into overdrive, and I automatically sprint over to her, wrench out the axe, and point my staff at the wound. I'm lucky that healing comes naturally to me apparently, because even though I heal her quickly, that is still a lot of blood.

"Are you alright?" I ask, a little bit panicked.

She smirks. "Been better." I decide that if she has the strength to snark, she'll be fine. While she carefully gets to her feet, my arms are outstretched in case she falls from dizziness; she looks a little pale from here. As she steadies herself, she flashes a brief, grateful smile. She turns back to the fight, readying her tome. I watch her eyes widen-

"Look out!"

I cannot describe to you what it sounds like to me. To everyone else, it probably sounds like a _THWACK_ or a guttural _GHRACK_. To me, it goes beyond sound. I could swear I feel my brain squelch a little as it parts to make way for the axe now buried in it. It doesn't hurt as much as I figured it might.

My left hand drifts up to the side of my head, gingerly touching the handle of the axe, probing to see how deeply it dug in. I realize my eyes aren't doing what I want them to do anymore. I think one of them has shut off. My remaining eye tries to focus on Robin, but she's moving too much.

"W-what…?" my mouth asks as my limbs stop obeying and I crumple to the ground. I always assumed a headshot meant instant death, but this is taking a while. I hear what I'm pretty sure are voices, but I can't tell anymore. I decide to close the eye that I still control, maybe if I sleep a little bit this will all make sense.

* * *

When I wake up, I am surprised to find myself slumped over in a wildly uncomfortable barstool. Everything is exceedingly hazy, but through the haze I feel an ache through each of my poor vertebrae. How on earth had I fallen asleep in that position?

"How on earth did I…?"

Wait. Wait wait wait.

"How on earth did you what?" the bartender asks, cleaning a glass absently.

"I've…been here before…" I say slowly. I get up, and my spine pops and cracks as it stretches out.

"Have you? First time I've seen you in here, I'm fairly sure. You don't look local," the bartender replies. "Feeling better after your little snooze?"

What the hell? "Uh, yeah I guess. I came here with some supplies, didn't I?" I ask. He nods, and ducks below the bar to hand me my supplies for the second time. "Thanks. I think I'm gonna...step out for a minute," I say a little robotically.

I step outside and take a look around. Everything as it was. No overturned or destroyed stands. No burning buildings. No bandits. My hand drifts again to the side of my head. No wound.

Am I back in time? That seems to be the most reasonable solution. Which means…

Oh, shit. The bandits are still coming. Like, soon.

I sprint off toward the south, thinking I can hopefully get ahold of the Shepherds a little bit earlier and mitigate some of the damage I witnessed before. I remember the poor guy that got lacerated by the wind mage's spell. If I can play a role in stopping that, I want to try.

I've passed by a few buildings, running as fast as this robe and my frankly-pretty-heavy pack allow, when I hear a voice call out after me.

"Hold up, there!" I try to ignore it and keep going, but as I round the corner of a building I suddenly find myself face-to-face with a massive, twitchy wall of a man. He pushes me backwards, and I trip on an uneven cobblestone and fall on my ass. "I said, hold up. Didn'tcha hear me?" the voice says. I turn my head to face him and find myself looking at the point of a myrmidon's sword. "I asked you a question."

"W-well, to be honest, I didn't think you meant me," I say. "I don't know you, so I figured-" the blade shifts an inch closer to my face and I stop talking.

"And here I was hoping we could be friends. Don'tcha wanna be friends?" the myrmidon asks, and the four or so bandits with him all chuckle.

I consider for a moment. There's not really a way out either way. I think briefly about the axe. What I felt before as I…

I don't wanna do that again. I really don't. That was awful. "Sure!" I say a little too loudly. "I mean, what do your friends do?"

The myrmidon squats, getting his face right up in mine. "They drop all their gods-damned valuables and do what they're told," he says quietly.

My stomach drops a little, I am ashamed to admit. This guy's like what, level 1? Maybe 2? And I'm getting schooled here. "I don't know that I have much in the way of value," I say.

"The staff will do," he replies, standing up again. I feel the faint tingling of the staff in my hand. It's my lifeline here. This is how I am going to get in with the Shepherds, I can tell. Without this, I don't have much going for me right now. I can't lose this staff.

But if I don't give it up, I'm going to die. Again. The seconds I spend considering it feel like an eternity.

"...I think I'd rather bump uglies with an anthill," I say, looking him in the eye and starting to get up. I don't make it very far before I am shoved back down by Big n' Twitchy. The myrmidon is startled; I can tell he isn't used to being contradicted. Putting on the bravest grin I can manage, I flick up the back end of the staff and give a whack to the big guy's groin. As he doubles over in pain, the other three are on me instantly, kicking and stomping.

Holy hell this is so much worse than the first time. This isn't quick. This hurts more than I figured it would. One of them stomps on my hand and I feel my fingers give way under his boot. My ribs and legs take kick after kick, and it's coming from so many directions at once that I can't even register where they are. Especially after one of them kicks the back of my head so hard that my vision mostly cuts out. Soon I lose track of time. The only thing that's real is feeling my limbs and torso get crushed with blow after blow.

After some amount of time (was it a minute? 5? 20?), they stop. It almost gets worse when they stop, because my brain can't help but start cataloguing the damage, and hoo boy does it find a lot to take note of.

"See you in hell, pal," a voice says, and I feel my throat get opened up by a quick slice. Everything starts fading pretty fast after that.

* * *

When I wake up, I am unsurprised to find myself slumped over in a wildly uncomfortable barstool. Everything is exceedingly hazy, but through the haze I feel an ache through each of my poor vertebrae. _How_ on earth had I fallen asleep in that position?

I slowly stand up, stretch a little, and sigh.

"This is gonna be my whole day, isn't it?" I ask the bartender, who looks at me like I'm crazy. Eh, I probably will be soon enough.

* * *

 **My first attempt at a self-insert, hoping it holds up despite the perhaps played-out genre. I've got some ideas in mind to make this a fun one. As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**


	2. Ch 2: Things Get Medical

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 2: Things Get Medical**

You know, I'm actually pretty surprised at how the battle goes the third time around. I guess I figured that it would go basically the same way, like maybe I was stuck in a sort of loop and the only things that change are what I change myself, but even without my intervention the Shepherds have a different structure to the fight. Instead of providing cover fire as she did before, Robin is much more aggressive with her tome and sword, fighting alongside Chrom rather than behind him. Frederick is doing less actual attacking as much as running a sort of interference/intimidation game to stir them up and make them vulnerable to the dynamic duo over there. Lissa seems to have less work to do this time around.

I decide I don't want to be lame and hide until someone gets hurt this time, so I run out and shout, "Hey! I'm a friendly!" Robin, the closer of the two, whirls around toward my voice, hand raised to blast me. Despite myself, I flinch. What? The look in her face when she fights is scary, okay? Anyway, she lowers her arm on getting a better look at me, no doubt dismissing my ability to be a threat.

"You a healer?" she asks, no longer looking at me but rather asking that in the middle of perforating a guy with Thunder bolt. I shout in the affirmative. "Good, then you're on me. Lissa, focus on Chrom!" I fall in line behind her, but with the distance she is keeping between herself and the baddies with that tome of hers, I don't get much action. That is, until a pair of mages rear their ugly heads.

Each of them level a wind blast at Robin at the same time. I cry out in warning, but I'm only able to stop one of them. Even taking one blast throws me back a few feet and onto my ass. Robin, meanwhile, earns herself a few pretty deep cuts to the chest and arms. As quickly as I can, I heal up her wounds. By the way, it's really trippy to watch skin un-separate itself. It also looks like it hurts like hell. I stalk over to one of the mages and realize this isn't the first time I've fought this guy. Because old habits die hard, I strike him in the temple with my staff again. I won't lie; it's pretty funny the second time. Robin looks at my chuckling self with alarm for a moment, but soon we are back at it.

I notice that although their initial strategy was different, we sort of end up in the same formation as we did the first time. I guess there's not much room for variability on a battleground consisting of one town square and one bridge. Speaking of bridge, here we are, and the battle is once again going pretty well. Lissa is handling Chrom and Frederick just fine, and on the rare occasions that Robin takes a significant hit I find it pretty easy to keep her in fighting shape. Before long, we are once again staring down the leader.

"Keep an eye on that axe," I say in a low voice. "Looks light enough to throw as well as swing." Chrom and Robin nod, and each of them take a side and try to flank him. The battle quickly develops beyond my ability to intervene helpfully; getting that close is just asking for another brain dissection.

I grab Lissa's shoulder. "We should stand back a little ways, in case things get out of hand," I say, pulling her away from the fight.

She protests, "But if one of them gets hurt, we have to help!" She tries to shrug me off, but I'm not playing that game again.

"Nope. We can heal them up all we want once they're done with him," I reply, firmly keeping her a decent distance from the fight and always watching what his axe is up to. Robin is keeping the bandit on his toes pretty skillfully, and it looks like it's taking everything he has just to keep up with the pair of them. Frederick circles the fight but can't find an opening that won't just mess up the pair's dynamic.

The leader raises his axe to bring it down hard on Robin, but before he can, she shoots a bolt at the axe and blasts it from his grasp. That should be the ballgame, I think, but then his free hand is reaching behind his back and suddenly a second axe is swinging upwards at Robin's face–

 _CLANG_. Chrom's sword catches the swing and bats it down just in time. It still hits Robin's leg, but it's no longer the lethal blow it could have been. Meanwhile, she's gritting her teeth through the pain and grabbing the man's face, letting loose a blast from such short range I don't think the term point-blank does it justice. About a second later, there's not really a face left to grab. The remains collapse, leaving the axe still embedded in Robin's leg.

Wow, if the ESRB saw some of that, an M rating would have been merciful, I think to myself as I run over to the wounded tactician. "Jesus, you really went all out there, Tarantino," I say as I examine the wound.

"That's…not my name," she says without opening her teeth. "Neither of those are." I realize I'm going to have a tough time adjusting around here for a bit.

With my staff ready to roll, I take hold of the axe. "Ready?" I ask.

"For what?" she asks, a little delirious from the pain and adrenaline no doubt. A pang of guilt shoots through me for what I'm about to have to do.

"Deep breath," I warn, and after a beat passes, I wrench the blade out. Wow that's pretty medical. By which I mean blood is everywhere. Must've hit a vein or something; it's a good thing we can fix that up basically instantly. I was expecting a lot of screaming from her, but apart from some loud groaning she takes it like a champ. Lissa and I both point our staves at the wound and close it up. I glance at Lissa while we are doing this, and she seems mostly unphased by it. I guess despite the cutesy exterior, she's seen some real shit like this before.

After a moment, Robin has caught her breath. "...Thank you," she says to the pair of us. Lissa grins at her, and I give a small bow.

I turn to Chrom, who with Frederick has been checking on the villagers but is just now getting back. "So, I take it you're the leader around here?" I ask.

He nods. "That's right. My name is Chrom, and I lead the Shepherds. This is my knight, Sir Frederick, and this is my sister Lissa. The woman you just saved is our newest recruit, Robin."

I hear Robin stir behind me. "Wait. So you don't know this man?" she asks, gesturing to me.

Chrom is silent for a moment, then laughs lightly. "I guess you wouldn't know, huh? No, we've never met him." He turns to me. "What is your name, priest?"

Oh, crap. Should I tell him my actual name? Is that weird? I guess anything else could be just as weird. Fire Emblem is kinda one of those Aerith and Bob things, where any name goes, now that I think about it. I realize I've kept Chrom waiting a weirdly long time to hear my name.

"Well, I'm not really a priest, per se...but my name is Randall," I say, the name feeling weird in my mouth in this context. "Some prefer to call me Randy," I add.

"It's nice to meet you, Randall," Chrom says, extending a hand. I take it and wow, that's a firm handshake. "Though I wish it could have been under more peaceful circumstances."

"You're telling me," I say with a sigh. "I've never actually used a staff in real combat before," I admit.

"Mister Randall," Frederick says, stepping closer, "Not that I wish to pry, but I must ask. What did you mean by saying you're not really a priest, when you wear that garb and take on a priest's healing duties?" It figures Frederick would be the one to try and poke holes in my fake backstory.

"Well, I was raised in a monastery, and I was taught the healing arts by the monks that live there, but I never took any vows of my own or became a priest in any official sense. I just wear the robes because it's what they had there," I say, making it up as I go. "They were sad to see me go, but they didn't try to stop me from venturing out."

"Where is this monastery?" Frederick asks.

"Oh, uh, it's not on this continent. I grew up in Valm," I say. "The country, I mean. Pretty tiny country, really, despite that the giant continent it named after it." Frederick gives a sort of grudging 'hmph' and resumes dealing with the village elders.

"Don't mind Frederick too much," Chrom says with a well-meaning smile, "there's a reason he earned the title Frederick the Wary."

"No offense given, none taken," I reply. "But I am wondering, is there by any chance room among your number for another healer?" I look at him with pleading eyes.

"Of course," he says, clapping me on the shoulder, "not only are you a decent healer, but I saw what you did to that mage. You keep your head on straight in battle, and we need as many people like that as we can get. But are you sure that's what you want? It's a dangerous job."

"So is wandering around the country with nothing but some camping supplies and a very shiny staff that basically announces, 'Please rob me,' so I think I know which option I'm picking," I say gratefully.

Chrom gives a good-natured chuckle. "That's fair. Welcome aboard, Randall," he says, and just like that I'm a Shepherd. A hot ball of excitement wells up in my throat and I have to fight to keep it down, probably making me look a little like a lunatic. But can you blame me? I played through the game quite a few times, so I already feel a strong connection to this case, and more importantly, I've already _died_ for this team. _Twice_. So even though they don't know it, I've already got a deep investment in this.

Suddenly, Lissa. Wow, I hadn't noticed earlier, but she's really not that tall. "So, Randy? Nice to meetcha! Thanks for your help earlier!" She grins, and it's like a knockout punch. Three precious five me.

"Bah, it was nothing. Just doing what I can," I say a little sheepishly. I'm not used to direct praise like that.

"Give yourself more credit," says Robin, who's now officially up and about. "You saved me more than once out there."

"It was you, Chrom, and Frederick that were really cleaning up out there, though," I say. "Not much credit necessary."

"Hey!" Lissa protests. "Are you saying healers aren't valuable?" She pouts at me.

"Of course not, just that they aren't usually the ones that get songs written about them," I reply, unable to resist the urge to pat her head at the same time. She may be a princess, but for now I can pretend I don't know that.

Her pout intensifies. "Well, I think we're plenty useful." I smile a little evilly at her expression.

We are interrupted by one of the villagers coming by and asking if we would stay the night. As much as I really don't like sleeping out with insects and stuff, I am also aware that for the game's events to happen we have to get out of town. So despite my desire to side with Lissa in the Great Dark Meat Debate, I bite my tongue and allow Chrom and Frederick to lead us out of Southtown.

* * *

I'm not sure how to describe the taste of bear. It's of course really gamey, but it's just difficult to nail down any other adjectives to describe its taste. Surprisingly, I actually enjoy it quite a bit. Maybe not as much as Robin—good lord is she scarfing that down—but it's still decent. My heart does go out to Lissa and Frederick though, as neither of them eat much that night. In the meantime, I pretend to learn a lot of things I already know: where we are, what Plegia is and how that dynamic is deteriorating, etc. Despite that I knew all of this in advance, it's still kind of cool to hear it out of Chrom and Frederick's mouths.

Before too long, though, exhaustion takes over. Maybe it's the bear. Either way, I make quick work of setting up my tent (Eagle Scout, what's up?) and roll out my bedroll on the ground. As I'm getting settled into my surprisingly comfy bedroll, I hear Lissa air some more grievances.

"How come Randy gets a tent and we don't?" she asks incredulously.

"Because he brought one," replies Chrom simply. "If you wanted a tent, we had some you could have brought easily."

"But that would have meant _carrying_ it!" she counters.

"You mean like Randall carried his?"

"Hmph." I hear footsteps approach the tent. "Randyyyy, is there room in there for one more?" Lissa asks. Ooooh no no, I am not playing that game. Fortunately, Chrom intervenes.

"Lissa, you can't just impose on him like that. That's pretty clearly a one-person tent," Chrom admonishes.

My better nature takes over. I climb out of the tent and tell Lissa, "Look, he's right about the size, but if you want, I've got no problem out under the stars."

Chrom raises a hand dismissively. "No chance, Randall. She's gotta learn a little about action and consequence. Don't bring a tent, don't get a tent." Lissa looks like she might cry.

Instead, she punches Chrom in the shoulder. "Jerk," she growls, and stalks off. Chrom gives me an apologetic look and retires to his own bedroll, rubbing his shoulder a little.

After a few minutes, I'm satisfied that Chrom has gone to sleep. I step over to where Lissa is sleeping by the dying fire, tossing and turning to try and find a comfortable position. I crouch and lightly tap her on the shoulder. She whirls around on the ground to look at me. With a small smile, I nod toward the empty tent. Her eyes light up, but she's smart enough not to say anything. As she gets up, I drag my bedroll out of the tent and set it not far from the other three of us. I settle in and, despite the bugs, I find myself so exhausted it only takes a minute or so to fall asleep.

* * *

 _Rustle, rustle, grunt._

My eyes snap open, and after a few seconds I remember where I am. I look to see what the noise was and notice Chrom getting up and stretching a little as he straps on Falchion to his waist. That's right. It's the night the Risen show up.

He looks over at me, then does a double-take. "Why aren't you in the tent?" he mouths. I shrug and imitate a pouting face. He rolls his eyes and begins walking away. I grab my staff and follow after him.

"Can't sleep, cap'n?" I ask once we are a decent distance away.

"No," he admits. "I just get the sense that something's off around here." Oh boy Chrom, if you only knew.

We walk for a while in silence. It's pretty nice out, if a little humid for my tastes. Before too long, though, the ground shakes a little. Then a little more. It starts getting louder and more intense by the second. Here we go. The ground opens up and fire and lava start pouring out ahead of us.

"Randall, run," Chrom says. Wait, am I Lissa? "I mean it, _go_!" We take off running, dodging falling fireballs left and right. That lava feels really hot, even from this distance. I see Chrom jump off a small ledge ahead of me, and I rush forward to follow. However, just as I am starting to jump, I feel a massive wave of heat and pain wash over me.

I fall off the ledge and onto my face. Within a second I realize I must have been hit by one of them. Is that what burning flesh smells like? Christ, that's horrifying. I start to try and crawl away, but Chrom hasn't noticed I'm not behind him yet.

The lava begins to spill over the ledge, and I am nowhere near fast enough to outpace it. After a moment, I see Chrom rushing back to me through the now-flaming trees. However, he's not fast enough, and my brain lights up in panic as the lava starts overtaking my legs.

I would say it's painful, but only for a second. After that, the nerves get burned so quickly they cease to function at all. My brain is aware I'm getting swallowed by heat, but the pain function shuts off pretty quickly. The last thing I see before the heat renders my eyes useless is Chrom standing helplessly on the other side of the lava wave, watching me get swallowed by fire and molten rock.

* * *

 _Rustle, rustle, grunt_.

My eyes snap open, and I am instantly relieved to be here. Updating save points are the best. I decide to feign sleep while Chrom gets ready to head out. However, after a little bit I realize Lissa isn't going with him. I rush over to the tent and shake the snoring Lissa awake.

"Whuh-what? Izzit breakfas' already?" Lissa moans.

"No, it's still night. But I think we're in trouble," I say, making it up as I go. "Chrom noticed that I let you have the tent and he looked pretty peeved; I think you should go talk to him."

"No waaay, it's fine. I'll talk to him in the morning," she responds.

"Lissa, please. I'm new here and I don't want the boss angry with me," I plead.

After a few moments, she stirs with a groan and slowly gets to her feet. "Fine, but you owe me," she says sleepily.

"Says the one who slept in my tent," I retort with a raised brow.

"...Point," she says, and after I point her in the right direction she heads off.

I consider going back to sleep, but considering how little time is left before things start moving, I decide against it. Instead, I quietly pack up the tent and the rest of my supplies and get them all ready to move. Moments later, I smell smoke on the wind.

I shake Robin awake, but before I have time to get to Frederick he is instantly standing, with his bedroll miraculously rolled up before he has even picked it up. I decide to not ask questions and simply accept that he is Frederick.

He leads us in the direction of the fire, and soon enough we meet with the rest of the crew. Oh, hi Lucina. Wow, that's more Risen than I remember fighting in the game. They move really weirdly, now that I am seeing them in action. Like they can't run properly, but they still try, and it's kind of like they're running with legs of two different lengths. It must be pretty uncomfortable to be one of them.

I turn to Robin, "So, tactician lady, what do?"

"Alright, everyone," she begins. "To win this, we can't be reckless. We are going for fort control, and hopefully we can funnel them in and take them out in manageable chunks. Don't underestimate the archers they have with them, though, even if you're in a fort safely. Try to draw them in as well. Chrom, you will go with Randall to take the north fort and act as an enticing draw. Lissa and Frederick, you will go with me to take the southern fort. Hopefully once we control both we can split up their forces and disorient them. Let's move."

Chrom and I make a run for the north fort, which is frankly smaller than I imagined. It's essentially a glorified supply post surrounded by four stone walls, but it will still get the job done. As we run, Chrom comments, "So, you let Lissa have the tent after all, huh?"

"Look, I know you're her brother and it doesn't work on you, but the average man cannot say no to that face," I say defensively.

"Right. Don't flirt with her," Chrom warns, and I consider responding but decide against it. Soon we are ready and waiting inside the fort walls, watching the oncoming swath of Risen coming closer and closer.

This looks like it might hurt.

* * *

 **Thanks again for reading! I'm hoping the way this will work is that while The Hardest to Kill updates more infrequently with larger chapters, this can update more often with smaller ones. As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**


	3. Ch 3: Big Trouble in Little Country

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 3: Big Trouble in Little Country**

What they have in numbers, they lack in basically everything else, we find. They are reckless, but to a skilled warrior like Chrom all that means is that the gaps in their attacks are easy to exploit. The only catch is if too many of them attack at once. There are a few occasions where I'm concerned we are about to get overrun, but then either Chrom turns the tide or I do something to help, like clumsily stabbing at one with a spear I find among the fort's supplies.

Still, there's only so much we can do before we have to pull back to the supply building itself. Though fortunately there is only one door and no windows, cutting off their means of surrounding us inside, there's also only one door and no windows, meaning we have effectively cornered ourselves. I bolster Chrom with the occasional healing move, but for the most part I find I can't help much. While he cuts down Risen after Risen, I rummage through the supplies in the building to see what we can make use of. I find some vulneraries, a few old swords, some clothes, and not much else.

Suddenly, arrows start lodging themselves in the doorframe. Right, Robin mentioned they'd have archers. Based on the angle of the shots, it looks like they've climbed the walls and are shooting down into the building, either trying for a pot shot or just keeping us pinned. Regardless, Chrom at least has the good sense to back up enough to avoid being fired on, but as a result he has to work even harder to keep them from spilling into the building and surrounding us. He's having to work a much wider angle, and though he's a champion among men, this is just too much. Occasionally I throw in a haphazard sword stab with one of the swords I find in the back of the building. I don't think it's helping much.

"Balls," I say more to myself than anyone. In the meantime, the herd doesn't seem to be thinning much, which worries me. Despite frequent healing, I can tell Chrom is losing steam pretty quickly. If something doesn't change here soon, we are gonna be up shit creek without a paddle.

Then, as if responding to my prayers, the arrow barrage slows and then stops within seconds. Not long after, the Risen in the doorway begin to press forward with less force than before. With the decrease in pressure, Chrom ups his intensity and pushes back, while more and more Risen fall from seemingly unrelated causes. After a moment, I notice the arrows in the back of their heads. It seems Virion has arrived, and not a moment too soon.

From there, Chrom and Virion make quick work of the enemy, while Sully rides in and disrupts the herd, forcing it into smaller, more easily downed chunks. In minutes, we are finished. After I give everyone a superficial healing, Sully delivers her report.

"The south fort is cleared already, Captain," she says. "Whoever that new recruit is of yours, she's pretty sharp. They barely needed any help from us." I'm a little embarrassed we needed that much help, but Chrom seems unperturbed.

"I take it that's truly the last of them, then?" Chrom asks, stretching a little after I heal the cuts on his arms.

"As far as I can tell. But man, were there a lot of the bastards. I will begrudgingly admit it was a good thing we had this fruit with us," Sully says, jerking a thumb toward Virion.

He bows magnanimously, a smirk that I can only describe as "wealthy, handsome, skilled, and aware of it" adorning his face. "Greetings, my gentle lords. I am known as the humble archer Virion, at your service. It is my disti–"

"I think we get it, er, Virion," Chrom cuts him off. "Thank you for your help; we were in a pretty tight spot there."

"No thanks necessary, my lord, except to hear a humble archer's request. Long have I walked this land with no employ or aid to call my own, yet I can see here a noble company of warriors who fight the forces of evil. Might I be so bold as to request admittance into the fold?" Virion asks, stepping forward.

"Oh, really? I'm surprised you'd want to join our little ragtag group," Chrom says, eyebrows raised. "But if that's really what you're after, then we'd be glad to have you. We've long needed help in our ranged attack strategy."

"A thousand thanks, my lord, erm…"

"You can call me Chrom. And no thanks necessary."

"Ah, pardon. Lord Chrom," Virion says, bowing cordially. "And what is your name, sir?" he asks, turning to me.

For a moment I had forgotten that I was there too, weirdly. "Oh! I'm Randall," I say, extending a hand. He shakes it, a textbook-perfect Cotillion handshake. I'm quite impressed, actually. I take another look in the man's face, and I see something in those eyes that I didn't really perceive in the in-game sprites: this is one clever guy. His eyes are constantly searching, surveying and attempting to understand everything around them. I can see why he's such a skilled archer. Not much escapes that gaze. It's no surprise Frederick finds him suspicious in their supports.

"Mister Randall! Most pleased to make your acquaintance," he says with a winning smile. "I'm sure we will be fast friends." We leave to join up with the others, who are finishing up the post-battle healing at the other fort. Standing not far off from them is Lucina, looking particularly serious and somber in that slick mask of hers. I wonder if the others have even tried to talk with her yet, or if they just wanted to wait on Chrom.

In either case, as we approach, Lissa springs to her feet and gives Chrom a quick but clearly very tight hug. I, to my surprise, get the same, and it is indeed very tight. "We were so worried about you guys! When Robin started laying down magical attacks, the bulk of them went off toward you two, but we were still pinned by the ones here. It's a good thing Sully came back when she did!"

"Though to be honest, all we did was help a little with cleanup," says Sully modestly. "Looked like you were holding your own pretty well there, Captain." The pair of them take turns trying to give each other the credit for the win, while Virion waits expectantly for one of them to credit him.

Deciding to throw the guy a bone, I offer up, "Well, without the help of Virion's skill here, we certainly would've been in a tight spot. I saw what you must've done to that archer company on top of the walls."

His eyes light up like Christmas has arrived early. "I certainly cannot acce–"

Lucina interrupts him, launching into her warning about the coming perils that the world will face. To be honest, I don't listen very carefully. After you read the in-game dialogue enough times, it kind of loses its impact, even if it's being spoken right in front of you. She also introduces herself as Marth. That's right! I'm supposed to be thinking of her as some mystery man. Wow, it's been years since I've been outside the loop on that little tidbit. I stare at her for a few seconds, wondering how on earth anyone isn't seeing that this is clearly a woman. A-cup angst or no, her voice and body language should be dead giveaways. Part of me wonders if it wouldn't be more interesting to follow her around until she joins up, see what she gets up to in the war's early days. I ultimately decide against it, narrowly, figuring that I already am where I'm needed. Anyway, Marth turns to leave, with Lissa sputtering "What's teetering where now?" in her wake. Moments later, she's gone, seemingly out of nowhere. That really is impressive. I should get her to teach me that one.

"He certainly was skilled. I wonder what motivates the mask..." Robin muses. I myself wonder faintly if she might be talking about her own daughter without knowing it, but that's getting ahead of myself for sure.

After that, things generally calm down. Well, except for the fiery natural disaster taking place all around us. But there's not a lot we can do about that, and actually it seems to be mostly calming down. That's good, if a bit weird. I guess a forest can only burn so much before the fire runs out of fuel. Also, it seems like the ground plates have more or less slid back into place now that the portal is closed. Closed, but still clearly there, though. That's unnerving.

* * *

It's doubly unnerving the next day when we see more of them on the trip north to Yllistol. I know that of course, there must have always been more, but seeing them like this is just different. I guess in the game the Risen always seemed like helpful grinding tools. Here, they're a constant threat, and there's no real knowing when one might open up. I try not to think about it too much.

I can tell, though, that it's on everyone's mind. They're all keeping a very close eye on each portal as we pass them, regarding them suspiciously. Honestly, it's a little adorable when Lissa does it, as I doubt she could look truly menacing to save her life, so instead it's just a narrow-eyed frown-pout.

The conversation takes a backseat to the vigilance, so the trip is mostly silent, even from the likes of Virion. It's already a change in tone from what I remember about the beginning of the story, but I don't feel like it's my place to try and break the silence. Eventually, though, I find I'm going insane just walking in silence like this, so I jog up to the front, where Robin and Sully are walking together.

I lightly tap Robin on the shoulder, and she jumps in surprise, then shoots me an embarrassed glare. I grin in spite of myself. "So, boss lady, what's on the brain?" I ask.

After rolling her eyes at the moniker I've given her, she replies, "I'm thinking about these creatures we were fighting. They obviously aren't human, but if these portals we've been passing are any indication, we will need to know the best ways to fight them, because we haven't seen the last of them. I think that…" She pauses. "No, I don't want to bore you."

"Are you kidding?" I respond quickly. "This is, by far, the least bored I've been since we started marching. Please, for the love of God, er, the gods, keep talking."

She raises a brow. "I take it you're the extroverted type then." I nod sheepishly. She sighs. "Alright. Based on the limited experience we have with them so far, I think the best weakness to exploit is going to be their movement. Their strength is no joke, but they're none too quick and even less agile. I'm thinking the most effective way to take them out is going to be to fight them in small, maneuverable groups that can corner them and get the drop on them. The reason we struggled in the clearing is because we allowed ourselves to become sedentary, meaning they could swarm and we couldn't take advantage of their speed deficiency. That error on my part almost got you and Chrom killed." I notice her facial expression change a little, but it's subtle. "I don't want any errors like that again. They won't happen."

"You're always three steps ahead, huh?" I ask, grinning inwardly at the reference.

"Yes, exactly!" she replies. "It's going to be harder with the addition of two more variables, but I just have to keep a level head at all times." I could swear I can see the gears turning. She really is always planning for the next threat. Oh Robin, how will you ever last when real war rears its ugly head?

I turn to Sully, who is walking like the rest of us and letting her horse have a rest. When the horse realizes I'm looking at his master, I think I see him narrow his eyes suspiciously. Might just be my imagination, but I doubt it. "So, Sully. You get visits from purple miasma monsters very often?"

Not taking her eyes off the portal off a little ways to the east, she replies, "Not that I'm aware of. That's a new one. But we've proven that they can be killed, and that's all I need to know. Anything else, I leave to Chrom."

"That's a lot of loyalty. I can respect that," I say, nodding approvingly.

"Har! You'd better, Mister Priest!" Sully bellows confidently. "I'll be out there protecting your squishy arse, after all."

"Hey now, maybe a little deference for the guy who puts the pieces back together when you're done thrashing yourself for loyalty's sake," I say mock-defensively. "If it weren't for the likes of Lissa and me, your loyalty would no doubt be much shorter-lived."

She scoffs. "As if I let the enemy hit me badly enough to need it."

"Oh, well now I've gotta call bull," I protest. "You're good on that horse, but no one is that good."

"Actually," I hear from behind me, "she's right." I whirl around to face Lissa. "I haven't needed to heal her in probably, what, two and a half years by now?"

Sully laughs as I take a few steps away from her scary ass and keep a respectable distance thereafter. Robin might be smart as hell and make me feel comparatively dim, but she doesn't make me fear for my safety.

* * *

Wow, Ylisstol is a pretty city. I don't know that I've ever seen a place that looked so...glowy. Not shiny, like a modern city, but like the whole city is just teeming with good-guyness. Frederick points out that the capital has been spared the disasters we saw farther south, and I realize it really has been a while since we've seen one of those ominous sky-eyeballs. Skyballs. Heh.

A group of what look like pegasus knights rounds a corner up ahead and starts walking down the middle of the street, prompting the crowds to make way. Following behind them is Emmeryn, looking every bit the radiant ruler. She carries herself so daintily I'm afraid a slight breeze would send her toppling over.

"Is it really safe for her to walk among the crowds like this?" I hear Robin asking Chrom. Chrom attempts to reassure her with talk of how she keeps the peace, and though she replies as if she's been placated, I can tell the lingering worry hasn't left her eyes. I feel kind of bad for her; she wakes up from amnesia and is almost instantly thrust into battle. She must worry that's what life is always like here. And knowing what's coming eventually, I can't even tell her she's wrong to worry that way.

The moment that Robin learns Chrom and Lissa are royalty is priceless, and my only regret is I don't have a camera to capture the moment for posterity. For my part, I whirl around dramatically toward the healer princess and cry, "Thou art royalty? But I've been so forward with thee, Milady! How ever will I live down the shame of my misconduct!" She giggles when I drop to my knees in mock horror.

"Oh please, there wasn't an ounce of sincerity in that apology," she says in a hoity-toity accent. "I'm afraid you'll have to work much harder than that to make it up to me. Mayhaps an apology cake or pie will suffice?"

"Right," I say, grinning and ruffling her hair as I get up. "We'll have to see about that."

My fun is interrupted by the small blonde pushing me in the direction of the Exalt's palace, and I realize the rest of the party has begun heading that way. In a few moments, we are caught up and pass through the gate as a group. Chrom is let in instantly, and even Virion, Robin, and I are not given real scrutiny as we enter. The security around here must be pretty lax, huh? No wonder a band of several dozen assassins isn't going to have trouble storming the place later on. No, no, don't think about that right now. That's for another day. Unless…

Maybe I can make some real changes? Knowing what I know about what's coming, with some careful planning I could save everyone some heartache. But what changes would actually help..?

While I'm wondering that to myself, we arrive in the throne room, where Emmeryn greets us. I'm content to stand in the back with Virion for this part, looking around and taking in the sights. The Exalted family really likes blue and gold, I decide as I struggle to find any decoration that isn't one or both of those colors. I notice a portrait on the wall opposite the throne.

The portrait features an imposing-looking man in his early middle age. Like Chrom, he's got blue hair, but it's closely cut. He's also got a carefully sculpted, slightly pointed goatee. His eyes are hard and gold, and his brow is fixed in a harsh stare. His outfit is regal, pretty closely resembling Chrom's Great Lord armor but with a massive cape sporting a thick fur collar on it. Falchion rests in his right hand, pointed down. I realize I must be looking at the Exalted family's father.

It's hard to tell, but from here I can just barely perceive cuts and scratches in the portrait. It must not have fared well when the people turned against him. I wouldn't be surprised if they don't like it being left up even now, considering his reputation. I wonder why Emmeryn bothers with it.

While I'm gazing at the portrait, I hear Virion clear his throat. I turn to face him, and he motions with his head for me to follow him, and I can see past him that Lissa is leading Robin out of the throne room. Must be time to meet the other Shepherds.

* * *

"What's good, party people?" I call out as we stride into the barracks. Vaike and Sumia are standing in the entry area when we come in, and on hearing us enter Maribelle rushes in as well. When she's finished airing her grievances about her fourteen new grey hairs, Lissa takes over.

"Everyone, these are some new recruits to the Shepherds! Our newest healer here is Randy, the man in the bib is Virion," (he looked extremely indignant at that comment) "and this is our new tactician, Robin! You should see all the tricks she's got up her sleeve!"

"Oh yeah? Well can she do this?" Vaike demands, and I decide in the microsecond preceding the impending belch that I'm going to act like it's not obviously hilarious, so as to get some brownie points with Maribelle, but then the belch itself happens. Oh my god. I can't pretend that wasn't amazing. Humans shouldn't be able to store that much air in their lungs to begin with. It's pretty much the best thing I've seen since I joined up.

"That's pretty much the best thing I've seen since I joined up," I say with reverence, shaking his hand. I turn briefly to Maribelle and mouth, "I'm sorry."

Sure enough, she puffs up in disgust. "Ugh! Must you baseborn oafs pollute even the air with your buffoonery? And you, Randy! As a man of the cloth, I would have hoped you were of a more mature stock." Wait, what the hell? Isn't she supposed to get on Robin's case? Why me?

I decide it's time to stand up for myself. I turn away from the others and face Maribelle. "Well in point of fact, I'm no priest. I just like the outfits they get to wear. Also, the gods made our bodies to work as they do, belches and all. So it's natural, and indeed a testament to the greatness of the gods, to belch like a madman when the opportunity arises." When I'm finished, I hold up my hand behind me, and mercifully Vaike knows exactly what I'm after and gives me a gloriously painful high-five. Christ, the man is strong. Worth it.

She makes a sound that's not unlike a growl, and stalks off. I'm a little bit bummed that I've made such a shoddy first impression on the troubadour, but there's not much I can do. Meanwhile, Vaike steps in front of me, a massive grin on his face.

"I don't think I've ever seen someone give Maribelle that kind of backtalk! The Vaike is impressed...and worried for your safety," he says with a laugh. I laugh in return, but only on the outside; I too am a little worried after seeing the fire in her eyes.

"A-anyway! You three are new to the Shepherds, right? We've still got plenty of bedchambers available, so let me show you to them," Sumia interjects, and at the mention of the word 'bed' I am at her beck and call. The three of us follow her while she tells us about the barracks. Things like where the food is stored, where extra arms are kept, that sort of thing. But finally we get to the part I've been waiting for: real beds.

I'm surprised there are enough rooms for everyone to have their own, even if the rooms themselves are pretty small. Sumia explains that the Shepherds are fairly understaffed in recent years, because the years of peace ushered in by Emmeryn have made a large military unnecessary. These barracks are a remnant of the days when Ylisse was a massive military power, though recent unrest in the west has prompted Chrom to start recruiting again.

Satisfied with that answer, I flop down on a bed and involuntarily groan as several days' (and several deaths') worth of tension leaves my body. "Oh my gods, you have no idea how great this is," I say to nobody in particular.

Then, we hear a door downstairs open, and Chrom's strong, clear voice rings out, "Anyone home?" We all move back downstairs, where Chrom is waiting. Stahl emerges from what I assume is the kitchen, followed by Miriel, which kind of surprises me because I figured we wouldn't meet until later. After a moment, Maribelle appears in the room as well, very apparently not looking at me. Ugh, this blows.

"Alright everyone, here's the story," Chrom begins, and he proceeds to fill in the Shepherds that weren't with us about the Risen attacks and the recruitment of Robin, Virion, and myself. "We in the Council are determining the best course of action, but for the time being we are going to be on standby here. I am recommending to my sister that we in the Shepherds travel to Regna Ferox to request the aid of the khan, but there is still deliberation to do. For now, get acquainted with the new recruits, and stay sharp with your training. That's all." I'm surprised once more, as I had been assuming we'd be straight back on the road. Then again, I guess this makes more sense. There are pros and cons of building any alliance, so I'm sure there are some disagreements among the higher-ups as to the best way to go about this.

Once Chrom dismisses us, I realize the sun is already setting fairly quickly. I guess I should think about going to bed soon. But in that moment, I catch a whiff of whatever Stahl has cooking in the kitchen and I change my mind about sleep.

"Hi there!" I say as I step through the door. The kitchen is pretty impressive, and looks well-stocked. It pays to be on a royal militia's salary I suppose.

Stahl looks up from his cooking and gives me a good-natured grin. "Hi yourself! You're Randall, right? I'm Stahl, one of the Shepherds' cavaliers. Nice to meet you!"

"Likewise," I say, inclining my head momentarily. I then notice Miriel seated at one of the tables nearby, with several books sprawled open around her. "And I take it you're Miriel," I say. She nods her head without looking up, which is more or less what I expected. "I won't bother you while you're working," I continue, to which she raises a hand in what I assume is appreciation?

I step over to Stahl's cooking station. "So what have we got going here, Mr. Stahl?" I ask, eyeing the massive pot over the fire.

"It's a stew I've been slowly perfecting over the years. Beef, chicken, potatoes, carrots, onions, and more, all brought under one happy roof of my mother's broth. Should be ready here pretty soon, actually." I think I feel a tear trickle down my face. "So what prompted you to join the Shepherds?" he asks.

I shrug. "Necessity? They saved my ass more than once since I met them, after all," I say noncommittally.

He laughs. "Yeah, that's kind of our thing. It's good to have you on board, though. You can never have too many healers."

I nod appreciatively, and we end up making small talk for a while. Here and there, he lets me help with the addition of an herb here or some salt there, but for the most part he takes charge. At one point, he allows me to steal a bite of the soup.

I swallow the bite. "...Stahl?" I ask.

"Yeah?"

"You know we're gonna be best friends, right?"

"What, because of the stew?"

"Partially. But only a truly good man could make stew this good."

"Are you crying?"

"No! It's the onions, probably."

"Did I put in too many oni-?"

"NO! No. Don't change a thing. It's beautiful as it is."

Mark my words. Stahl and I are going to be best friends. It's going to be great.

Soon though, it's time to call everyone in for supper.

I've never seen a more varied and mismatched group crowded around one table before. On one end of the table, Vaike and Stahl are laughing uproariously at some joke or other, while at the other end Miriel still holds a book and is reading while eating, and Lissa is trying to make Maribelle laugh while the latter occasionally glares a dagger or two my way. Is she taking it personally because I'm a healer too, like I'm making a mockery of the profession or something? Anyway, sitting next to me is Sully on my left and nobody on my right. Wait, that's not true, that cup just moved. I realize with a start that Kellam has been sitting next to me all along.

"So, you're Kellam, right?" I ask the chair next to me. It's hard to explain the way one experiences the Kellam. Once you know he's there, you can see him. Kind of. You know what he looks like and you can see what he's doing, but at the same time you can't shake the feeling that things are just happening on their own. You hear him speak, and you respond, but even as you're talking you catch yourself wondering once in a while if the conversation is really happening.

"Wait, you can see me?" Kellam asks.

"Yup!" I lie. Half-lie. Whatever.

"Wow, that's great! Thanks! You're right, I'm Kellam. And you're Randall, I'm told."

"That's right. Nice to meetcha, big guy." I smile good-naturedly in what I assume is his general direction.

"Same to you." We don't speak for a while. "You know Maribelle is mad at you, right?"

"So I'm told," I mutter. I really have to get this Maribelle thing sorted out before it gets too big. I guess I'm not surprised rumors spread quickly in an army this small, though.

* * *

That night, I return to my room, nursing a glorious food baby. I close the door behind me and give a satisfied sigh. For the first time, I take off my priest's robes, finding a simple and thin set of black pants and a dark grey long-sleeved shirt underneath. It feels strange to be out of the robes, and it occurs to me at that time that I haven't had a bath since I arrived in Ylisse. I determine that it's about time I change that, and in my supply bag I locate a change of clothes (seemingly identical to what I'm already wearing). Satisfied that I'll have something to put on afterward, I set off to get cleansed.

Armed with a large towel, I locate the bathhouse, where a wall divides the men's and women's sides of the room. The bathhouse is pretty impressive, actually. Along with the bath itself, there's a little sauna off to the outside that I determine I must try at a later time. I slide into the proper bath, untying my hair for the first time as well. The familiar feeling of brown, sort-of-curly hair falling around my shoulders is comforting; it makes me feel more like myself. I realize with a start I have no idea what my own face looks like. If the rest of me changed, it's possible my face did as well, after all.

At that moment, Vaike and Stahl enter the bathhouse as well, chatting about something. I guess the bath is a popular place to be at night? They greet me pleasantly, then settle into the bath themselves.

After I finish actually cleaning myself off, I ask them, "Do you guys know if there's a mirror around anywhere?"

"What, you need to do your makeup, madam?" Vaike jabs, and Stahl rolls his eyes.

"No, I just want to make sure it's all still, I guess correct?" I say not at all suspiciously. They share a look and each of them raise a brow. "Look, I don't need it for long, but it would be helpful for just a minute."

Finally I get some help. "Yeah, there are a few, but as I recall they're all on the women's side of the bathhouse," Stahl says. Vaike smirks.

You have got to be kidding me. That's the most monumentally stupid thing I've heard this whole journey. The only way I can see my own goddamn face is if I violate the sanctity of the bath partition? This is a scenario that you'd find in a cheaply made ecchi show, not real life. But then again, I really do want to know what I look like. Like, I'm super curious now. Damn it.

"Fine, fine. But I want you two guarding the entrance like your lives depend on it, alright?" I say, raising a finger.

"Of course!" Vaike says. "We won't let anyone in." I eye him carefully, but I don't think he's lying.

I carefully get out of the bath and wrap the towel around my waist, then step back out into the entrance of the bathhouse. The pair of them follow me and take positions on either side of the doorway, standing like sentries.

"Come on, we haven't got all night," Vaike says, waving me on toward the women's room. Sighing a bit nervously, I throw open the door and step inside. I'm actually surprised to see they weren't lying about the mirrors. I step over to one and take a look.

Wow. I'm not gonna lie, I don't look half bad. It's still clearly me, but also significantly different. I can see a resemblance, but it takes a minute to place it. I eventually decide it's sort of like if they combined my own face with Mark Ryder's Cesare Borgia. Scratch what I said before. I don't look even a quarter bad. I feel around on my face a bit, getting acclimated to my new face. I stroke my short beard and wonder if the Shepherds find me suspicious because in Fire Emblem, basically only baddies get beards most of the time.

My thoughts are interrupted by a movement behind me, and I see the door to the sauna open up.

No. No please. I'm serious, please don't. I would prefer literally anything to this.

Ignoring my pleas, the universe decides to place an exceedingly nude Maribelle in the room with me. For a moment, I don't think it registers with her who I am because my hair is down, but watching that moment of realization in the mirror as I begin scrambling for the door is like watching a human shift into a werewolf. I don't even remember exactly what she screeches at me as I flee, but I think it includes words like "gutter-born," "slimy," "troglodyte," and the like. I'm only half-listening, as most of my faculties are devoted to closing the gap between me and the door as quickly as possible.

I slam the door shut behind me and am greeting with the helplessly laughing Vaike and Stahl as they literally roll around on the floor. "You guys are assholes, you know that?" I ask. They laugh harder. "You saw her go in while you were coming in yourselves, didn't you?" If possible, they laugh even harder. "You know she's gonna hate me forever, right?"

Eventually, they catch their breath. "Relax," says Vaike. "It was just a harmless prank!"

I jerk my thumb toward the door, behind which I think I can still hear Maribelle pacing angrily, and say, "Does that seem harmless to you? I completely rescind my approval of your belch earlier, by the way," I say to Vaike with as much venom as I can muster.

"Whatever you have to say to feel better, man," he replies, wiping a tear from his eye.

I skulk past the pair of them and head straight to my room, locking the door and then immediately checking to make sure it's locked a few more times before throwing on my bedclothes and lying on my bed, wholly not in the mood to sleep anymore.

I guess it's a sign that I'm bonding with them quickly if they already feel like they can pull a prank like that on me. It seemed like it wasn't ill-intentioned on their part, so I figure it's ultimately a good sign. That's what I tell myself to get myself to calm down, anyway. After a long while, I can finally feel myself drifting off to sleep.

* * *

"Randall."

My eyes snap open. I sit up and look around and GAH HOLY SHIT WHO- oh. It's Lucina. Wait, what?

"Umm…hi Marth? Not that I'm not elated to see you, but mind telling me what you're doing?" I say slowly, not sure what else to do.

"Good evening. I'm sorry to sneak around like this, but I needed to have a word with you alone," she replies. I glance at the door and notice it still appears to be locked. Did she come in through the window? This is the third floor. Holy hell.

"Welp, I'd say you found me. What's up?" I ask, attempting nonchalance to cover the fact that she startled the hell outta me. I sit up properly in my bed and face her.

"This is a strange conversation to be having, so please bear with me," she says. You're telling me, Luci. I wasn't expecting any late night visitors, especially ones that are supposed to be heading to Ferox right about now to become Basilio's champion if I recall. "I suppose I should start with this." Glancing around a few times to make sure no one is watching, she reaches up and takes off her mask. "I know you know who I am already, so in private company there is no need to be secretive about my identity. I know that you know a great deal about this world already, things no outsider should know."

"And you know this...how?" I ask, brow raised.

"You told me," she says simply.

That makes sense. "I see. Future me must have spilled the beans on our little secret."

"Something like that. But I come with a warning." Her expression turns grim.

"What's that?"

"I know you are already contemplating ways to change the path that we will walk. I am asking you not to," she says slowly.

I pause for a moment. "Wait. You, the future traveler from a ruined future come back to the past to change things, only to then warn me not to change things as well?" I ask incredulously.

"Well, I should specify. The you from the future told me to tell you, 'Stick to the script.' He said you would know what that means," she says, shifting her weight side to side.

What? Why would he say that? What's the point of me being here if not to help make things better? Hell, isn't my mere presence a change from the script? "Lucina, that doesn't even begin to make sense, and he knows that. I understand technically what he means, but it cannot be done even if I wanted to."

"He also figured you would be obstinate. He said if that were the case, I should give you this." She hands me a small folded note. "I didn't read it, as per his request."

"Thanks," I say, unsure of what else would be appropriate. "So...I should keep calling you Marth for now?" I ask.

"That would be best, yes. Of course, please don't tell any of the Shepherds about me. I intend to keep helping, but not as one of you."

"Oh, that reminds me. I always wanted to know something about you. Mind if I ask?"

"Um…Of course, go ahead."

"You're planning on going to Ferox to act as Basilio's champion, right?" Her eyes widen as I reveal knowledge of her future plans. She nods slowly. "Um...Why? What's necessary about that?"

After a moment, she collects herself. "Well, in my time, Lon'qu is an astoundingly strong soldier and ally to the Shepherds' cause, but he has one fatal flaw."

"The women thing?"

"No, a physical defect. An enduring wound from his duel with my father that never fully healed. His sword arm was never quite what it was after that day. I intend to prevent him from dueling my father to prevent this injury," she explains. Wow. That's actually a much more cogent response than I expected.

"Props to you, then. That's a nice plan, assuming you can avoid getting hurt yourself," I say.

She smirks confidently. "I know my father's fighting style backwards and front. I'll know what he plans to do in the fight before he does. And besides, I intend to let him win." Oof, that's a blow to his pride if he ever learns about that. "However, I have already stayed too long. I must be off to Ferox before the Council decides to send you all north as well. I've got a longer trip to West Ferox than you'll have to East Ferox, after all."

"Right. Good luck then, Marth," I say, raising a hand in farewell. She dons her mask, nods politely, and leaps out my window. I cross over to the window to see how on earth she can land that safely, but by the time I get there she is already gone. She really needs to teach me that one.

I cross over to the bed and sit, lighting a lamp to read the note. It reads (in my own handwriting, which is trippy),

Know when to use your power. And use it.

A chill runs down my spine as it occurs to me what power he means. Is it really possible to use this respawn mechanic to change history like that? Can I reconcile myself with the implications of using the power proactively. My brain is already thinking of which methods of suicide would be the least painful. The thoughts quickly make me feel a little sick, so I decide that sleep is the better option for now.

Suddenly truly exhausted, I burn the note in the lamp's flame, extinguish the lamp, and I'm pretty sure I'm asleep before my head hits the pillow.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry for taking about twice as long as I intended writing this one. Finals and family trips unfortunately get priority. However, as you may have noticed I attempted to atone with a double-sized chapter this time around. With classes done, ideally I will update more consistently the rest of the summer. As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**


	4. Ch 4: Knocked Down a Peg

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 4: Knocked Down a Peg**

"Uuuuugh," I groan to myself for the fifth time in the past few minutes. "What the hell did he mean by that?" I ask the ceiling. I've been lying in bed for about an hour, trying to figure out what Old-Randy's messages meant. They seem totally contradictory! On one hand he's telling me not to change anything, which he should know full-well can't happen anyway because _we exist_ , but on the other hand he's telling me that I should off myself to make changes when things go wrong? Is he saying I should only use my power if things start deviating from the game's story? How often does that happen in this world?

My thoughts are interrupted by someone knocking at the door. I get up and open it, only to be greeted with the single most terrifying possible person.

"Gah! I mean, uh, good morning Maribelle! Sleep well?" I say probably too loudly. Her face is beet red, but her brow is fixed at an alarming angle. Hoo boy does she look unhappy to be here.

"Good morning to you too," she says, failing utterly at hiding her disdain. "I have been instructed to fetch you so that we can begin your training."

"Training?" I ask.

"I've been told you have limited field experience with healing, so Lissa and I will be overseeing your progress as you practice the healing arts while the rest of the Shepherds spar this morning," she says a little automatically. "Now please, don't keep us waiting." The door closes very quickly.

I sigh, honestly relieved. She didn't even try and kill me, which is a plus. I cross over to the small closet I've been provided and change into my priest robes, grabbing my staff on the way out the door. I don't see anyone downstairs until I duck into the kitchen, where by the grace of the gods someone has made breakfast. I didn't even realize until I was looking at the food how hungry I am. And wow, there's a lot here, too. Well, it's all in one big pot, kinda like a breakfast stew/mix thing, with what appear to be eggs and meats mixed throughout. Looks pretty good to me, so I load up a bowl and tuck in.

It's not that great, but damnit I'm hungry and am currently keeping a very disgruntled troubadour waiting. I head out back and find most of the Shepherds have paired off and are currently doing some warm-up exercises and stretches. It's a weirdly comfortable scene.

That is, until they start really fighting. It's a lot less comfortable and a lot more "wow, that looks like it hurts" and "do arms normally do that?"

I spot Lissa and Maribelle hanging off to the side, staves in hand. I walk over to them, waving and trying not to make eye contact with Maribelle.

Lissa flashes me a big grin as I approach. "Hey there Randy! What keptcha?"

"Sorry, I grabbed some breakfast on the way out," I reply.

"You grabbed...breakfast?"

"Yeah..? What's the issue?"

She and Maribelle glance at each other. "I guess nothing," Lissa says. Wonder what that's about. "Anyway, this is how morning training usually goes for us. We join the others out here and wait for one of these morons to get themselves hurt, usually Vaike, and we heal them up. Keeps them in fighting shape and it keeps us in practice. Since you were such a short notice recruit and we haven't made time yet to train you properly, we'll start with this."

I nod, understanding, and take my place on the other side of Lissa. It really is amazing to watch them fight, though. The way they duck and weave, slash and parry, I can tell these are professionals of the highest order. Certainly don't appear to be level 2 or 3, which makes me think that maybe the levelling system doesn't really work the same way here.

Chrom and Frederick are sparring right now, and all I can say is that it's a damn good thing they're both on our side. Chrom is fighting through his weapon disadvantage and keeping Frederick at the distance that best suits him, while Frederick's thick armor and massive shield provide a sturdy defense that Chrom has trouble breaking through. At one point, Frederick jumps back.

"Now, my lord, like we've practiced!" Frederick shouts, and Chrom nods. He holds Falchion behind him and the weapon begins to glow faintly with blue light. Pretty much everyone pauses what they're doing within a few seconds to watch what happens next. Holy shit, is he going to use Luna? It certainly looks that way, as Chrom suddenly dashes forward, thrusting at just the right moment for maximum momentum, but Frederick was ready and has his shield raised. However, that doesn't mean much, as Chrom's sword bursts right through the shield, cracking it into pieces and piercing through Frederick's arm in the process. He gives a small shout of pain and takes a knee as Chrom quickly lowers his weapon. Looks like that's our cue.

We run over to the pair and Lissa immediately begins examining Frederick's arm. Chrom's attack has cut through half of his forearm, breaking the radius and causing quite a bit of damage. Once the damage is assessed, Lissa and Maribelle stand back a few paces, and I realize they want me to fix this mess. I remember suddenly that everyone is still watching. Great. I gulp despite myself. With all the confidence I can muster, I point my staff at the wound and mentally command the staff to heal him, please. For a moment, I can feel that familiar hum of the staff, and the orb lights up, but when I try to push the magic out of the staff as I did before, it comes out diluted and weak. Some of the damage gets healed, a few blood vessels reseal, but mostly I haven't helped, and the motion of the healing makes Frederick grunt in pain.

Shit, shit, why isn't it working? He's hurt, everyone is watching, Maribelle is watching, _Chrom_ is watching, and I can't get the magic to work right. I try again, and again, but at this point even the little that I could do before doesn't repeat. I shout something incoherent in frustration, literally shaking the staff to try to get it to work. This continues for I don't know how long. Why isn't it working? WORK GOD DAMNIT!

I feel someone push me gently out of the way, and then Maribelle is closing Frederick's wound. There's a sickening _crack_ as the bone resets, but after an initial groan of pain he looks okay. Lissa takes hold of my arm and slowly pulls me away. As I'm departing, I can hear Frederick congratulating Chrom on an extremely well-executed Luna attack, and attention mostly refocuses on him and the progress he's made. Soon Lissa and I are a good distance away. We sit down on a stone bench under a shady tree.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry–" I begin, but Lissa shushes me.

"It happens to all of us sometimes, especially early on. We asked too much of you, and I see that now," she says softly. "Can you forgive us for putting you in that position?"

"What do you mean? I was healing everyone just fine in the battles we've had until now, but suddenly I can't fix a single injury?" I ask incredulously.

"I can see there's still a lot you don't know about healing magic," she replies. "To be honest, it's a little confusing. You know so much about some things, and then not so much about others even though you'd think they go hand in hand." I hope she isn't starting to smell the bullshit.

"I really am sorry. I don't even know what happened," I say, looking down.

"Well, having seen what I saw there, I think it's more surprising that you did what you did while we were out fighting before we came here than it is that you couldn't do it just now. It's pretty likely that the only reason you were healing so effectively before is that you just weren't thinking too much. Lives were on the line, you had an adrenaline rush, and your body took over. But today you did what every novice healer does: you wigged yourself out, dummy!" she says, elbowing me a little to make me look back up at her. She's smiling, and it calms me down a little.

"You think so?"

"I know so! Come on, you totally freaked out because everyone was watching!" she exclaims. "Which, duh, is a pretty stressful thing to have happen on your first day of training!"

"I guess so. What do I do now?" I ask, uncertain.

"Obviously, you go back and try again!" she says, springing to her feet and pulling me off the bench by my wrist. She's surprisingly strong, I realize. She leads me back to where the others are back to sparring, and it seems everything is normal again. Frederick is taking a brief breather over by Maribelle, who's continuing to inspect the wound.

"Sorry about that," I say sheepishly as I approach. "As you might guess, I don't always do the best under the eye of scrutiny."

Frederick smiles good-naturedly. "No harm done. As you can see, Lady Maribelle has healed me up quite adeptly. Now then, I must get back to work," he says, rising and taking up his lance and a fresh shield and walking back out.

I stand there beside Maribelle for a moment, not sure what to say, for a minute or so. "Umm… thank you for covering for me," I venture, not quite looking at her. She gives a slight 'hmph' and otherwise doesn't speak. I guess I've been pretty much exclusively letting her down since meeting her, now that I think about it. Not that she's been terribly polite with me either. Really, not even a 'you're welcome'? Cut me some slack, woman.

I open my mouth to say something again, but my stomach suddenly emits a guttural growl. Both Maribelle and Lissa turn to me, expressions contorted with alarm. Suddenly I'm really not feeling so hot. The pair of them then turn to face each other, nodding grimly.

"You might want to go," Lissa says, kind of giving me a shooing motion with her hands.

"W-what? Why? What–uuurgh–is happening now?" I ask, lurching forward a little.

"...Sully cooked breakfast this morning," Lissa says, backing up a little as she does so. Oh balls.

* * *

I'm not sure how much later it is when Mt. Randuvius stops erupting, but when it does I feel like death. At least I made it to the latrine before things got truly ugly, I note as I clean my face up and try to erase the taste of semi-digested breakfast from my mouth. It doesn't work.

I clamor out of the latrine and find I don't really have the strength to stand right now. I shuffle over to a shady patch of grass and fall down, letting the sleep of a defeated man move in on me.

* * *

When I wake up from that, though, I'm surprised to find that I'm actually feeling great. As I sit up, I realize it must have been Frederick that woke me, as he's standing right there and wow are you tall, Freddy. Hadn't really realized it until he was towering over my prone form like a monolith.

"Sorry, did you say something?" I ask, wiping my eyes. I realize it's still the middle of the day.

"I was wondering if you wished to come and train with us," he says. "Not healing training, but physical training. In the afternoons we do not spar for the most part, but rather work on building strength and endurance. Then when dinnertime comes around we have some protein to give our strength back. It's quite a sound system, if I do say so myself."

I hadn't really thought about it, but maybe working out myself isn't such a bad idea. Even if I am a healer, that doesn't mean that I necessarily have to be a limp noodle in battle. Especially if I'm maybe going to go full War Monk someday. And even though you wouldn't think so after my battle with breakfast, my body actually feels great. That settles it.

"Alright, Sir Frederick, I'm in. Gotta make up for this morning's mishap somehow, don't I?" I declare, springing to my feet. I remove my outer robes to keep my movements loose and follow him to the training field, ready to get swoll.

The afternoon fitness session is, in a word, brutal. In several words, it's perhaps the most physically taxing thing I've ever taken part in. There's always another rep to do, whether it's lifting this barrel once more, or doing one more push-up, or squatting just one more time with Vaike sitting on my shoulders. Even the part where I'm the one sitting on his shoulders is rough, because keeping balance requires extended use of muscles as well. I'm pretty sure that in total, there is not a muscle in my body that Frederick's exercises didn't seek out and punish with extreme prejudice. I've done a fair number of workouts in my life, but they were nothing like this. And that smile. That damn smile he wears every time he demands "just one more" set, for the fourth or fifth time in as many minutes. He's having way too much fun. I let him know as much at one point, to which he replies that I need to do another set. By the time it's finally over, I really do feel like a limp noodle.

As I enter the barracks, I notice Lissa sitting at a table nearby, playing a card game of sorts with Maribelle. I cross over to them and raise a hand in a halfhearted wave. "Hey guys," I say, slumping into a chair nearby.

"Hey yourself," says Lissa, "feeling any better? I guess not, based on the look of you. Where have you been?"

"Out training with Frederick and the others," I reply, wincing as my brain starts cataloguing all the parts of my body that hurt. It decides, 'most of them'.

"What? You've been training with the others!? But you were so sick before!" Lissa almost protests.

"Well I mean, I felt fine when I woke up from my nap or whatever, but now I wouldn't say 'fine' is the word for it," I say.

"But I mean, usually Sully's cooking is a full-day knockout!" Lissa says, and as she does so the cook herself enters, wincing a little as she notices me. She mouths the word 'sorry' at me and I reply with a thumbs-up and as close to a good-natured smile as I can muster with my remaining energy. Lissa giggles and continues, "I'm just surprised you were in any condition to train at all." Across the table, Maribelle gives another 'hmph' and places a card down, glancing briefly at me as she does so.

Wait, what was that look? I swear she just gave me a look. I wonder…

Dinner, which was mercifully not cooked by the redheaded cavalier but instead by Kellam, is delicious and surprisingly restorative. I never knew how good chicken and potatoes could taste until now. Though I'm like 90% sure that's largely because I worked up such a magnificent appetite. When Vaike walks in to have some, he sits by me and claps me on the shoulder.

"Hey buddy! I have to admit, the Vaike is surprised you worked as hard as you did out there! Usually you healer types are pretty flimsy, so color me impressed," he says. In response, Lissa, sitting on the other side of him, slugs him in the shoulder. "See? Didn't even feel it," he says.

"Then how did you know I did it, Vaike?" she asks, smirking smugly.

"'Cuz I saw you do it!" he protests.

"Out the back of your head? You were facing that way!"

"Whatever."

I swallow the bite in my mouth and say, "You know, you're all sunshine and rainbows with me, but I still haven't heard an apology for the little stunt you and the green-haired wonder pulled on me yesterday. She's still mad as hell at me about that."

"That reminds me," a voice behind me says. I turn around and there's Chrom, entering the mess hall. He approaches the pair of us. "I don't know how things work in Valm, Randall, but around here we generally ask that men and women use their own bathhouses. Just so you know." Great. So he knows. I wonder how long it took for word to spread.

"Well to be fair, Captain," I protest, "I wouldn't have even considered it if there were mirrors in the men's side as well."

"Mirrors? There's a mirror in the men's side," Chrom replies, looking confused. "It's in the corner, sure, but it's there. Maybe got covered up with a towel or something."

I whirl on Vaike, who is already laughing again. "There was a mirror there _the whole gods damned time_?" I ask with something beyond incredulity. "If my arms weren't so tired, I would throttle you," I say venomously. That just makes him laugh harder. Somewhere near the end of the table, I can hear Stahl laughing as well. I'm gonna kill them. I swear I'm gonna.

Soon enough, though, dinner is wrapped up. As I am leaving to go upstairs for what I don't doubt will be the best sleep of my life, I spot Maribelle walking down the hall to her room.

"Hey, Maribelle!" I call, and she stops and turns. As I walk over I say, "I want a quick word."

"Yes?" She looks almost embarrassed about something.

"Did you heal me while I was asleep earlier?" I ask. "Lissa said there's no way I should have been feeling okay this afternoon, and even I thought it was weird how fast I recovered."

"You mean 'how quickly'," she corrects.

"Yeah, okay, but did you do that?" I ask again.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because I want to thank you if you did."

"Well, who knows? Maybe I did, maybe I didn't."

"Uh, you know. That's why I asked you. You'd be the one who would know."

"I'm afraid I can't be of assistance to you on that count," she says without expression. "Good night, Randall." She turns to walk away.

Baffled, I automatically say "Good night" as well without really thinking. Her door shuts. What just happened? I throw my hands up in frustration and walk away as well, making for the third floor stairs. I'm just trying to be nice here girl, damn.

I enter my room and barely have the door shut and my clothes off before collapsing onto my bed. I don't remember it being this soft before. Everything is so cozy now, and…and...zzzzzz

* * *

The next day, Chrom calls everyone together after breakfast (which because Frederick made it today, everyone is eating) for a meeting. After dinner last night, he'd had another meeting with the Council, and they finally agreed to let him set off and request aid from Ferox. He informs us that we will be leaving at the end of the week, which is in two days, and that during that time we should focus on getting equipment ready and getting rested up while staying loose.

"Now, for those that I would like to come with me on this mission, I believe the best team would be myself, Robin, Lissa, Frederick, Virion, Sully, Vaike, Stahl, Miriel, and Sumia. Any objections?" Chrom asks.

"Can I come too?" asks Kellam from somewhere in the room. "It'd be a shame to miss it."

"Ah! Yes, of course, Kellam. I'd meant to assign you to the mission initially as well." Chrom coughs once, a little embarrassed.

"Are you sure I'm ready to come on a real mission, Captain?" Sumia asks nervously, standing up.

"Well, if you don't want to go, you don't have to. But the only way to know for sure if you're ready is to have you in the field," says Chrom. She nods, still looking a little anxious, but sits back down.

Wait. I just realized I wasn't on the list. "Um, Captain? What about me?" I ask.

"See me afterwards, I've got something else in mind for you," he replies, giving me a reassuring look. God damnit, I knew I blew it. Am I off the Shepherds now or something?

He finishes briefing the Shepherds on the plan for the mission, but I'm not really listening at this point. I'm just mentally berating myself for being such a fuck-up. I think I might have an idea of how Sumia feels at this time. Finally the meeting is done, and Chrom motions for me to join him. We walk over to what I assume is his room, basically the same as everyone else's except the blue blankets on his bed have the Brand of the Exalt stitched into them. Classy.

Before he can begin talking, I make the first move. "Look Captain, I know that yesterday didn't go well, but I really want to work with the Shepherds, and I know I can do better if you just give me a second chance–"

He places a hand on my shoulder, and I shut up. "Peace, Randall. You're not getting kicked out. In fact, just the opposite. You said you need a second chance, but I'm not sure you've really had a first one. You aren't actually formally trained in healing, are you?" I shake my head slowly. "I figured. You have nothing to fear from me. I just want you to be the best asset possible to the team, and I know you want that too. So while we are on a long, frankly probably boring march to Ferox, I am going to have you doing something else."

"What's that?"

"You're going to receive the formal training you need, from someone who's fully qualified to teach you because she's already an expert herself."

Oh wait a minute. Chrom, surely you can see this isn't the best plan, right? Maybe have Lissa teach me or something, but this just isn't going to work out, man!

"Now I know you and Maribelle have had a rough couple of days here, but I have already asked if she is willing to go along with this plan, and though admittedly reluctant at first, she's agreed. She's going to have to return to Themis for a while to perform some duties for the Exalt, but for the most part she will act as your teacher, and hopefully in the time that it will take for us to march there and back, you will have learned a great deal. Does that sound agreeable?" he asks, and even though he's my commander I can tell my opinion really does matter to him.

On one hand, I'm of course apprehensive. She kinda seems to hate my guts aside from maybe healing me once, and even then she didn't accept the olive branch I tried to offer after the fact. On the other, I really want to get good at this, and it's pretty clear I have a lot to learn. More than I thought I did. And I do want to be an asset to the team. I have to be.

"Alright, Captain, I'm in."

* * *

 **A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter! From here on, this will probably be the size of a normal chapter for this story (between 3k and 4k), so I hope you guys find that suitable. As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**


	5. Ch 5: Adventures in Ineptitude

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 5: Adventures in Ineptitude**

The next couple days are actually pretty nice, all things considered. In the absence of a crazy Frederick Fitness Hour That Isn't Really An Hour, the afternoons are mostly spent messing around with whoever isn't busy. I don't really have much to do, as packing up my shit took all of fifteen minutes and now I just have to wait. In the meantime, though, it's been cool watching the Shepherds interact with one another.

Stahl and Vaike seem to be much closer than the game had led me to believe, which surprised me at first but then began to make a lot of sense. I mean, when they're not fighting the forces of evil, they're just guys who do guy stuff. Kellam hangs with them sometimes (when they notice him), but barring that it's basically been them, Chrom and Frederick who are usually out and about, and a bunch of girls. Sully will spar with them as well, and in training they're totally impartial, but in their downtime it's pretty wholesome to see them bro-ing it up.

I learn pretty quickly that Sumia and Sully spend most of their time off with the horses, taking care to brush them and make sure they're fed and cared for. Sully's horse, Arcturus, is fiercely loyal and obeys only Sully, but barring that it seems that the horses can't get enough of Aunty Sumia. At one point she tries to show me how to feed an apple to one of the horses, but when I actually get face-to-face with the beast and realize that its head is basically the size of my entire torso, I panic and end up getting my hand bitten. Sully thinks it's funny. Sumia doesn't.

I decide one evening to try and get Miriel to show me some magic, but she says she's too busy trying to figure out how Kellam works to make time. On one hand, I'm kind of disappointed, but on the other, I ship them hard, so I'll allow it.

Virion doesn't seem to be around anywhere. That's weird. Wonder what he's up to. Probably some weird flirty shit or something. Maybe it's better I don't know.

After I strike out with basically everyone else, I decide to see what our fearless tactician is up to. I knock on her bedroom door and hear a considerable amount of rustling, some mumbling, then a sudden yelp and a loud crash. A few seconds later the door opens, and Robin is rubbing her head.

"Looks like that hurts. What happened?" I peer over her head (because I can do that now! Being slightly taller than average is great!) and good lord that's a lot of books. Including several now-toppled stacks. Which explains the crash. "Never mind. I think I know what happened," I deadpan, and she rolls her eyes.

"Did you need something?" she asks.

"Just seeing what's cooking on your end. I know it's gotta be pretty stressful planning a march across half the country into a foreign nation," I reply, and I think her eyelid just twitched.

"Oh, stressful doesn't even _begin_ to cover it!" she almost shouts, storming back into her room and rolling open a map on her desk. "Come look at this!" she commands, and I almost trip on the pile of fallen books in the middle of the room on the way over to the map. "Look how many possible routes we have! This shouldn't be possible if we're just going _one direction_ , but no, there's no fewer than _thirty_ potential options when you account for all of the splits in the road and potential deviations or detours from the main road, and I've been analyzing _each one_ based on risk versus amount of time saved. It's been a nightmare!" The map has a crazy amount of lines, smaller lines branching from those lines, little scrawled notes here and there, and a couple doodles that look like they might be Risen faces.

"So that's what you've been up to for the past few days. No one has really seen you, y'know," I say.

"There's been no time! Honestly, I shouldn't even be taking the time to talk to you about all this, but I guess stress has just been getting the better of me, and you happened to come by." She doesn't look like she's slept much lately. Jeez, you never really get to see this side of Robin. Being responsible for the lives of a group of soldiers must be a really taxing gig. I guess I had always figured she'd be the type-A personality of the group, but not to this extent.

"Hey… Maybe you should take a break for a little bit," I say cautiously. "I'm pretty sure dinner's almost ready downstairs, maybe you should eat with everyone and get your spirits back up?"

"I have to make sure the route is perfect. We leave tomorrow, you know."

"I know, but...well, you look like you're gonna be hurtin' for certain if you don't cool it a little." She shoots me a glare, and it's hard to meet her eye. "I'm not saying it's not important! Just that maybe having a sane tactician might be nice too."

She keeps up the glare for a moment more, then sighs, sounding very worn out. "Alright. I'll come down for a little while. But then it's back to planning."

"Fair enough," I concede, and we wade through the floor-books to get back to the door.

As we are walking down the hall, I remember why I was there in the first place. "Oh hey! I was wondering if you'd teach me some magic stuff. Healing is great and all, but I wanna learn how to defend myself too."

She shifts around a little. "Not that it's not a good idea to learn it, but I don't know that I can really help. I know I can work tomes, but I can't really tell you how to...actually do it."

I cock my head. "What does that mean?"

She points to her temple. "I don't remember learning how to do it."

I feel my face redden. Nice going, jackass. "Oh, uh, right. Sorry." We walk to dinner in silence. However, once we're inside the mess hall it's like a whole new Robin emerges. Suddenly she's the bold, extroverted character I'm used to, making jokes and having fun with pretty much everyone. It looks like a lot of the tension is lifting from her, which is good because they're going to need her. After all, I won't be there to hit any handy suicidal reset buttons if things go askew, so she's gotta get it right on the first try. Not that I'd ever tell her that.

* * *

That night, I think a lot about death. I think about my brain getting axed. I think about being beaten, stomped on, and broken, before mercifully having my throat slit. I think about burning alive and being consumed by lava. I wiggle my foot back and forth and can faintly remember what it was like to lose feeling of my legs as the super-hot liquid rock devoured them. I blink a couple times and remember how confused I was when my eye stopped working because my brain hadn't yet realized it was dying. I remember the look on Robin's face when my legs gave out from under me. I remember how helpless Chrom looked when he realized I was a lost cause amid the fire and lava.

"It's possible I might have some issues to talk through," I tell the ceiling.

* * *

The trip to Themis isn't really that exciting, to be honest. I sleep through a lot of the first couple days and spend the rest of it checking out some of the Ylissean countryside. It's pretty much what you'd expect; that is, it's gorgeous. Rolling hills, massive farms, lush forests, and cheerful rivers intertwine with each other as we make our way southwest toward Maribelle's home. It's the kind of scene that would have the likes of Samuel Coleridge and Percy Shelley spitting poetry like it's going out of style.

There's also portals every once in awhile, but since they're still closed I try not to think about it too much.

Because it's about a week's trip by horse from Yllistol to Themis, we have several carriages and attendants with us; this also gives Maribelle an excuse to sit in a different carriage from me and speak as little as possible with me. She does, however, give me some preliminary reading materials to peruse on the trip. While at first a little apprehensive about having to study like I'm going to school or something, once I get into them they're actually pretty interesting. The magic of healing is incredibly complex, and no one living today seems to have a full grasp on what makes it tick. The first and most obvious point is that it is based in a certain aptitude for the art that some people just have and others don't, much like how people can be born with an aptitude for anima or dark magic. So I've at least got that going for me, as I've made staves work before.

The ability to heal is also based in the focus, emotional state, intellect, willpower, and health of the healer, among doubtless more factors that have yet to be studied. Each staff also requires different kinds of factors; for example, a Rescue staff requires almost flawless focus, while the wound closing staves such as Mend and Recover require more willpower and passion than other staves. In short, you almost have to have a sort of relationship with your staff in order to get the most out of it. Trying to quantify the abstract and esoteric nature of having a mental conversation with a piece of metal proves difficult, as a lot of these texts look like they were written for grad students. Thanks for the rudimentary crash course material, Mari.

There was a nasty little number in one of them about the use of healing as an interrogation technique, as well. After all, you don't have to worry about your subject dying from whatever tortures are used on them if you can heal the wounds at will. I remember with a grimace that Gangrel, being a trickster, can probably use staves as well. I wonder if he's used techniques like this in the past, then quickly decide to stop thinking about it.

Despite how squishy the science seems to be, I feel that I'm actually learning a lot, and by the time we've arrived, I'm genuinely excited to start learning in practice. I'm finally gonna be useful!

Maribelle's mansion is, needless to say, stellar as well. Perfectly symmetrical, with tasteful columns and fountains in front of the home as well as green gardens, and a welcoming off-white color. There's no doubt in my mind that a duke lives here.

Well, not right now, I learn, as the duke is away on a diplomatic trip to a province in the south and has requested that Maribelle assist with taking care of the place while he's away. This means that my lessons with her will be interspersed with her administrative duties.

Soon we are pulled up to the front doors, and I retrieve my pack and staff and carry them inside. Wow, this is a fancy-ass mansion. Statuary, dark-stained wood furniture, and tasteful portraits of important-looking people adorn the foyer, which is flanked by twin staircases that lead upstairs. I am led to the second floor, where I get acquainted with my new room. It's a good deal fancier than the room I had at the barracks, with extremely cushy armchairs and a small bookshelf packed with old volumes. It looks cozy as hell here.

The woman who led me upstairs introduces herself as Isadora, the head maid. She's pretty much the sweetest person in this world, and within a few minutes I decide she's too good for us. I've never had someone call me 'dearie' before without it being insincere or sarcastic, but this gem of a woman has made it basically the cornerstone of her vernacular. Also like five minutes after I arrive, she reappears in my room with freshly baked rolls that taste like little buttery clouds. I decide then and there that I don't want to leave this place. The Shepherds can have fun fighting a couple wars or whatever, I just wanna hang with this adorable old lady.

She informs me that Maribelle will be able to teach me only in the evenings, which will leave the afternoons and mornings open to my discretion. I ask if there is a library that I can use as a study space, and she leads me to a charming little library, well lit with a lot of windows and a view of the yard in back. I peer out the window and see a small squad of soldiers, maybe six or so of them, sparring with one another. One man stands over them, occasionally nodding approvingly or gesturing in what I assume is instruction.

"So this place has its own military force?" I ask.

"'Military force' might be a strong term, dearie. That is the estate's security force, headed by Captain Jackson. He does a fine job keeping them in shape, but truth be told, we've rarely needed them in the past for anything serious, gods be praised. I do admire the work they do nonetheless, as their mere presence keeps the employees of the estate feeling safe and secure." She smiles down at them and gives a friendly wave, but they are too focused on training to notice.

I get settled into the mansion pretty quickly, learning the layout and all. It's fairly easy because of the symmetry, so where you find one thing on one end you'll probably find something similar on the other. The exceptions are the great halls, situated at the ends of the first floor hallways. The east hall is the dining hall, complete with a massive ornate table set with silverware that I have no doubt is worth more than I'll ever make. The west hall, I'm told, is where I will be training with Maribelle. I'm led to the large hall on the other side of the building, which is decorated with large chandeliers but otherwise mostly empty at the moment. Plenty of space for whatever is entailed with formal healing training, I imagine.

After I assure her that I know my way around the mansion well enough, Isadora takes her leave of me. I decide to spend the small amount of afternoon I have left meandering around the grounds. I step through a back door, which leads me to where the security force was training earlier. Though they are apparently done and gone off somewhere else, Captain Jackson is still there, polishing weapons and looking fairly formidable. He looks to be in his mid-thirties, with a hard chin and focused, light blue eyes. His auburn hair is kept short, not buzzed but almost to that length. He looks up as I approach.

"Ah, the visitor from a faraway land I've heard about. I trust we won't have any trouble, mister priest?" he says, and though he smiles I can smell the veiled threat. Wow that's a big bolt axe he's polishing.

"Uh, right! Yes, absolutely, no trouble from me," I say probably too quickly. He smirks. "So, I see you've got a bolt axe. Never seen one before. Mind showing me how it works?"

"I assume you don't mean on you?" He stands, hefting the axe over his shoulder. I know I was excited about being decently tall now, but this guy still dwarfs me in height and width. Reminds me of high-school football.

"Yes, preferably on pretty much anything else," I squeak.

"Alright then." He turns toward one of the practice dummies still left out from training. "How about this?" he shouts, and swings the axe down in an arc. As he is completing the swing, a similarly-shaped arc of lightning very loudly cascades toward the dummy, shooting its head clean off its shoulders and leaving some impressive burn marks on the body that remains. That's one dead dummy. I'm officially scared of Jackson.

"Well?" He's looking at me expectantly.

"That's...impressive, for sure."

"Wanna try it?"

"Oh my god. Gods. Yes, yes I want that very much." I'm starting to reach for the axe when–

"Mister Randall?" a voice calls out from the door. I turn around and see another maid is calling me. Aww, but I was gonna get to blow shit up!

She looks more or less my age, with her long dark hair pulled into a pragmatic simple braid. "My name is Melinda. I believe you have met my mother, Isadora?"

"Oh, you mean the world's most pure-hearted person ever?" I ask with a smile. Is everyone in the estate staff a cinnamon roll?

She smiles as well. "Yes, that would be her. Please come with me. Lady Maribelle wishes to begin your training this evening before supper." I follow her to the training hall, where Maribelle is waiting, a staff of her own in hand. Melinda closes the door behind her as she leaves, which shouldn't have scared me near as much as it did. Something about being in a room alone with Maribelle still makes me worry a little for my safety, if I'm being honest.

"Hi there, Maribelle," I say with a nervous smile.

"Good evening," she says stiffly. I know she didn't really want to do this with me either, but would it kill her to inject some enthusiasm? "I don't mean to be rude, but time is of the essence. Let's begin."

"Uh, right. What should I do?" I ask.

"Did you read the materials I gave you on the way here?" she asks sharply.

"Yes!" I squeak, then more levelly, "Yeah, I did. But there wasn't anything about how formal training actually works."

"I was merely checking to make sure you've stayed to task," she replies. "The art of healing requires a great deal of understanding to become reliably proficient. I shall warn you, though. This training may alarm you. Simply follow instructions and all will be well."

"What does that mean?"

"We will begin now." She turns around and picks something up. When she turns to face me again I can see it's a dagger. Oh holy hell was this all a ruse to attack me? I'm sorry Maribelle, I didn't mean to see you all nude and shit! It was Vaike! Stab him!

I don't have time to say any of this aloud before she swiftly pulls up her left sleeve and gives her own forearm a quick slash of the dagger. What the hell?

"Heal me," she says simply. Oh. Oh shit. I fumble around with my staff uselessly for a second, then finally get a grip on it while she rolls her eyes. I try to remember everything I've read, everything I've done. How I felt on the battlefield, and why I was able to heal Chrom and the others back then without a second thought. I feel the staff vibrate faintly, but I can already tell it's not as strong as before. Why should it be? I'm obviously useless to the team when they've already got the likes of Lissa and Maribelle. There's no point to my being here if all I can do is flop around uselessly with this hunk of metal.

Her right hand reaches out and grabs my shoulder. "You're thinking too much. Just heal me."

I take a deep breath and start again. Remember, focus, willpower, passion, man that's getting to be a lot of blood–NO. Keep focusing. Close the wound. The magic is already in the staff, you just have to guide it to the cut. Feel it well up, slowly, slowly, and now push it out.

After a minute and a half or so, the staff's magic finally seeps out of the staff and circles her wound, but it can't fully close the wound. The blood still spills out from the open portion, and I could swear it's almost laughing at me. You can't even close one cut, you dunce.

Suddenly, a light shines in the dim room and circles her wound, closing it entirely. Did I do something? Is something working? No, in her other hand she's holding what I recognize to be a Balmwood staff. She healed herself.

"Stand up," she says, and I realize that at some point I had fallen on one knee with the effort of commanding the staff's magic. I scramble to my feet and stand in ashamed silence. "Look at me," she commands, and I do. She doesn't look angry like I expected, but she certainly does look stern. "Try again."

"Wait, I'm not ready to–"

Too late. She winces in pain as she reopens her arm. God that looks like that sucks. Why on earth is this the way healers train?

"Why on earth is this the–"

"Don't talk," she says with gritted teeth, "just heal."

I try again, with the same results. And then again. This goes on for I don't know how long, and each time she has to close her own wound because I can't. And all she says, every time, is "try again." Which I do, with the same results. How did it get so hard when it was so easy before? Is it really just that there was mortal peril involved?

Alright then, I decide, pretend like this next one will kill her if you don't do it right. Act like her life is on the line. No, _believe_ her life is on the line. As she opens up her arm again, I stare deeply at the wound. I watch the blood leave her. If too much of that spills out, she'll die, no question. I stare harder. It's the only thing my eyes are focusing on. That's her life, leaving her. If you don't do something, then she will run out of life and that will be on you. So close the wound. Save her life.

I lift the staff, and the vibration is stronger than ever. As I did before when I first saw Lissa take that axe blow in Southtown, I know exactly what to do. I push the light out of the orb and will it to enter and heal the wound. At last, it does. Aside from the blood left behind, there's no trace of the cut.

It takes a second to register what just happened. "Holy shit!" I yell, and it echoes through the vast chamber. "It worked! Yes! _Yes_!" Without thinking, I pull my mentor into a tight hug, which she promptly pushes her way out of. I'm instantly embarrassed, but still grinning.

Brushing herself off, she says, "Don't do that. It's much too…j-just don't do that. Yes, well, it's a start, but we've a long way to go yet." She takes a breath and composes herself. "Though perhaps we should finish for today. You look quite exhausted."

I didn't realize until she said as much, but she's right. My limbs feel heavy, and everything is kind of numb. "Yeah, I am. Thanks."

"No thanks are necessary," she says with what I could swear is the shadow of a smile. "Now come, let's go to have some supper. I'm sure you're famished."

You've got that right, Maribelle.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey there folks, hope you enjoyed this chapter and our official departure from the bulk of the Shepherds. I like the idea of allowing a story to flesh out independently of the source material when possible, but still remain a part of that larger story, so even though coming up with an entire new location stocked with characters that don't really exist is kind of tough, it's also really rewarding. As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**


	6. Ch 6: Things Go Well and Then They Don't

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 6: Things Go Well and Then They Don't**

"So, Maribelle. I've told you some about my own family, but barring that you're a future duchess I don't really know much about yours. Care to shed some light on that?" I ask before taking another bite of the delicious steak Isadora has cooked for our dinner. Have I mentioned I don't want to leave this place?

Maribelle wipes her mouth daintily with the corner of her napkin. "I suppose you have been working quite hard the past couple of weeks, so perhaps I could share with you a little bit. Unlike you, I am an only child, the sole heir of the Themis dukedom. You see, my birth came with complications, and my mother passed shortly afterward."

"Oh my gods," (I've gotten better at saying 'gods' in the plural lately) "I'm really sorry to hear that."

"It's quite alright. I've had my entire life to move past it, after all. But it was her passing away that I suppose shaped my destiny, because the more I learned about the wonderful woman she was, the more I wanted to follow in her footsteps."

"And I take it she was a troubadour too?"

She smiles a sad smile. "Yes. One of the best in Ylisse's armed forces, if the rumors are true. I had some figuratively large shoes to fill. I suppose I still do."

I give a reassuring smile. "Well, if it means anything coming from this disaster, I'd say you're doing an excellent job."

"Come now," she scolds, "I won't have you calling yourself that! It puts the quality of my teaching ability to shame."

I raise my hands defensively. "Hey, you're doing fine work, but you're not working with much is all I'm saying. The sculptor can't always choose the finest clay, right?"

"On the contrary, I would say you are coming along quite well. I don't want to risk inflating your ego too much, but I am prepared to say I am proud of the effort you've put forth so far." She sips her tea smugly.

I guess I have to admit she's not wrong. After my 'just pretend she's dying' breakthrough on the first day of training, it's actually been going pretty okay for the most part. With smaller cuts, I never have any issue anymore, and there haven't been as many stumbles with even the more sizable stuff. I've also started to build what I guess you could call magical muscle. See, using magic tires you out after a while, but if you were to ask a mage where the aches and pains are coming from, they wouldn't be able to actually point it out on their person. It's like a spiritual tax or something. Anyway, as incorporeal as it may be, it can still be worked like any other muscle and grow stronger and more resilient. It's a sure sign that I am making progress, and it feels great. That said, one thing still bothers me.

* * *

"Hey, one thing still bothers me," I interrupt Maribelle in the middle of stabbing her biceps (I've graduated to significant muscular injury healing) at our training session the next day. While I raise my staff to close the wound, I ask, "If we have a training security force here, why am I not just healing them? Why do you have to do this to yourself?" I focus for a moment, closing my eyes and letting the healing magic flow out. When I open my eyes again, the wound is sealed.

She rubs the newly healed arm experimentally and nods approvingly. "I can see why you would be confused. Lissa and I certainly were, years ago when we went through this same training." Oh holy shit, did Lissa have to mutilate herself like this? That's genuinely messed up. I can feel myself getting a little green around the gills. "The reasoning is sound, if brutal. Firstly, there are merits to learning how to tolerate pain and injury, even if only for a short time. Healers are not left alone on battlefields ever since the invention of healing staves, as you have already experienced. Given the chance, armies will target healers first to keep the enemy in dire straits. After all, five critically injured men with one skilled healer becomes five uninjured, ready fighters in a matter of moments. In a sense, a healer is the army's strongest weapon, able to take an already deadly warrior and increase his potential exponentially. There is perhaps no greater threat than an untouched healer."

"That's intense as fuck, dude," I say in spite of myself. What? It's true.

"Ahem. Well, yes, I suppose it is, though that vulgar word choice wouldn't have been how I would phrase it." I redden a little, but she continues. "So, having a healer that is ready to be the target of enemy abuse in nearly every engagement is essential. Additionally, there is another reason, and while this phenomenon is well-documented, its nature is yet unknown. In short, when a healer performs healing magic on a patient, the bonds between the pair grow stronger on a fundamental level. In training, healers pair off and work together, practicing on one another. It was in the midst of slashing each other's arms open and reclosing them that Lissa and I first came to truly be friends, after all."

"That's pretty morbid, actually. I always figured it would have been some sort of tea-related meeting or something," I admit.

She almost chuckles. "Not quite. I'm afraid Lissa is quite oblivious when it comes to tea, though you must _never_ let her know I told you as much."

I raise a hand solemnly. "Scout's honor."

She doesn't get the reference (obviously), evidenced by the raised brow. "Anyway, that is the way healers have been trained for generations in Ylisse. It can be said without boasting that the continent's best healers hail from our fair land, so I would say you should be thankful to be learning the healing arts from a nation so well-versed on the subject."

"Right. Thanks, the country of Ylisse..?" I say slowly. "Anyway, so normally the whole mutilation thing would be going both ways?"

"Typically, yes. Why do you ask?"

"Lemme see that for a second." I take the dagger (mercifully wiped clean after its last use) from her hand and before I can think for too long about it, I roll up my own sleeve and slash deeply into my forearm.

It hurts. Like, a lot. No, I'm not gonna purple prose this; getting cut in the arm just really hurts, man. I can't say I recommend it.

"Well?" I ask the momentarily stunned Maribelle. "You gonna do me a solid and close this sucker up?" Realizing what I'm up to, she rolls her eyes.

She springs into action, swiping my staff from the ground and closing up the wound. I gotta say, back when I first speculated that getting wounds fixed probably hurts as well, I was totally right. It just feels wrong, like an itch so strong that it goes beyond irritation into a strange pain across all the damaged tissue. However, a second later, my arm feels totally normal. If it weren't for the blood, I wouldn't have been able to tell you I'd been injured. Healing magic is super trippy, man.

I rub at the skin where the wound was. It feels totally normal, if a bit gross from the remaining blood. "Well, what do you think?" I ask. "Are we spiritually closer or whatever?"

She scowls. "This is _not_ an 'or whatever' sort of exercise! The training of Ylissean healers should be taken with the utmost seriousness."

I laugh a little. "Yeah, I gotcha. I'll keep working at it."

Her shoulders slump a little as she sighs. "You had better," she warns.

* * *

The best part about the arrangement I have with Maribelle, I decide for the thirtieth time at least, is that I can sleep as late in the morning as I want. I take my sweet time sitting up and stretching out my stiff shoulders, then slip into my usual grey shirt and black pants. I really should think about expanding my wardrobe sometime.

I've only been awake for a few minutes when there's a knock at the door. "A good time, dearie?" I hear from the other side.

"I'm decent this time, don't worry," I call back, grimacing inwardly at the memory of the time that such was not the case. She opens the door and the glorious smell of biscuits and bacon wafts in. As I accept the plate from her, I remark with near-reverence, "You know me so well, Isadora."

She smiles the unassailably sweet old lady smile of hers. "Well I should hope so, by now. How long has it been since you arrived, after all?"

I have to think about that for a moment. "Wow, I guess it's been like six weeks, hasn't it?"

"As of tomorrow, yes. It's day forty-one of your training. And if I may be so bold, I believe you have been improving at a most respectable pace."

"Wait… Have you been watching Maribelle and me while I've been training?"

Her smile shifts a little and she assumes a sly look. "Of course not, dearie. I have far too many duties that keep me busy, you see. But then again, I suppose I cannot deny taking the occasional peek to see how things are going. And of course, there's the mess that the pair of you make in the ballroom every day, what with all the blood and all." I'm a little embarrassed as it occurs to me that cleaning up all that violence must be downright disgusting, even if we do lay out a tarp every day to train on.

"Sorry about that, by the way," I say.

"Not at all, dearie. I've had much worse messes, back when Lady Maureen used to train healers by the dozen here," she replies.

"So you knew Maribelle's mom?"

"Of course. I have been working for the estate since I was a young girl, after all."

"What was she like?"

She rubs her chin thoughtfully. "Well, she was certainly the spitting image of her daughter, except she usually didn't take the time to arrange her hair so carefully. Lady Maureen was, above all, a constantly busy woman. She took great interest in the lives of her servants and staff, and acted as a mediator for a great many conflicts between her subjects. While her husband the duke was and remains a frequently absent ruler, maintaining our relationships with the rest of the nation's provinces, Lady Maureen was almost always here, maintaining the estate with a firm but fair grip on the handle.

"I can say without exaggeration that there wasn't a single subject of the dukedom that did not love Lady Maureen. Even as she was with child, she never wavered in her caring for her subjects. Some suspect that it was her extreme effort even in the late stages of pregnancy that left her too weakened to survive the birth process. Tragically, when Lady Maribelle arrived, the latest class of healers had just graduated and been sent to various villages around the country, so there was no one to heal Lady Maureen. To my eternal shame, my efforts were not enough to save her." Her face turns downcast, which in my experience is a new look for her.

I'm not sure what to say for a moment. Finally, I manage, "Well, I'm sure that you did everything in your power to help. You always do."

She smiles again. "You're sweet to cheer me up like that. Thank you, Mister Randall."

"Don't mention it," I reply.

"Oh yes! I had almost forgotten to tell you. Captain Jackson has requested you in the training yard at your convenience," Isadora says, suddenly full of urgency again.

"Yeah? What about?"

"He mentioned something about you expressing a desire to, what was the phrase…'blow shit up'?" She smirks at the opportunity to swear while on duty.

Oh man. It's time. It's finally time. I'm so ready for this.

"I'm so ready for this," I tell Isadora as I just about fly out the door. Seconds later, I'm down the stairs and about to get to the back door when I bump into someone and cause both of us to fall on our asses.

"Oh, damn. Sorry Mindy," I apologize, scrambling to my feet to help her up as well.

Gritting her teeth in pain a little as she replies, Melinda says, "I still don't know why you insist on calling me that."

"For the same reason I insist that you call me Randy. Sign of familiarity."

"Which we have also established I will not be doing, Mister Randall."

I give an animated sigh. "I suppose you're more scared of your mother than you are of me then, huh?"

She can't help but smirk. "Something like that."

I start to make for the door. "Anyway, I can't talk right now, Jackson and I are gonna go blow shit up!"

She waves politely as I leave. "Have fun with that, I guess!"

Seconds later, I'm face to face with Captain Jackson. "Hey there boss. And by the way, was I right or was I right?" I ask as I notice him stroking the short beard I convinced him to start growing a few weeks ago.

He growls, "Alright, I guess you had a point. I'd say it looks pretty good by now."

I have to reach up pretty high to slug his shoulder good-naturedly. "You're damn right it does." It doesn't look like the punch did much to him. I'm not sure he noticed.

He turn around and grabs his bolt axe leaning up against a stone bench. "But I know what you're really here about. You ready to start learning how to handle this piece of work?"

I can feel my eyes light up. "I'm so pumped right now."

He holds it back for a moment. "Now I'm pretty convinced you don't have much training in the way of wielding axes, right?"

"Yeah…" I think bolt axes are like C-rank? Balls.

"Alrighty, we'll just have to take it slowly then. Now I want you to watch my swinging form carefully. The first thing to keep in mind is–"

"CAPTAAAAIN!"

We are interrupted by a panicked member of the security force rushing around the corner and toward us. Is that blood on him? "We're under attack! Plegian invaders!"

Jackson's demeanor changes instantly. "Well then, let's not keep them waiting." The pair of them charge off, and I realize I don't even have my staff on me. Shit, is it all the way up in my room?

I sprint into the mansion, but by the time I get inside there are already a few Plegians inside. Those weapons look like they've already spilled blood today. One of them spots me, and points me out. I now have three axe-hefting maniacs after me. It doesn't take long to decide I should turn and run.

Unsure where to head, I decide the safest place is probably wherever Jackson is, so I follow the path he and the security guard took. I round the corner and almost instantly trip over something. As I scramble to my feet, I realize to my horror that I have tripped over the guard's corpse, riddled with arrows and with a look of terror frozen on his face.

Shit, this is going downhill fast. I knew this day would come eventually, but I wasn't ready. Not for something like this. I round another corner and end up at the front of the mansion, just in time to see Jackson get overwhelmed by four men armed with swords. With an explosion of lightning, he throws them off of him, but I can tell he's been wounded heavily. He glances in my direction and notices me.

"What the hell are you doing? Get to safety!" he shouts. "Where is Lady Maribelle?"

I realize I have no idea where she would be at this time of day. "I don't know! I'm going to get my staff!"

"No! You find her and you get the hell out of here!" he commands, and is then interrupted by my pursuers from inside the mansion.

While he engages them, I sprint through the door behind him and slam it shut. The stairs are finally clear, so I make a break for my room. As I burst through the door, I find myself face to face with the sharp bottom end of a staff. Oh, it's Maribelle. She lowers the staff when she realizes it's me.

"There you are! What's going on out there?" she asks.

"Looks pretty grim. We're gonna get overrun before too long," I reply.

She's quiet for a moment. "Alright," she says slowly. "I'm going to parley with their leader and try to keep the barbarity to a minimum."

"Are you nucking futs?" I demand. "I dunno if you've seen these guys, but they don't seem like the parleying type!"

She shouts back suddenly, "There's nothing else to be done! We can't stop them!"

"I know that, but what we can do is get our asses outta Dodge! Jackson gave me an order to find you and get gone!" I protest.

"Jackson doesn't give orders around here; I do," she replies, and storms past me and out of the room. "If you want to run, be my guest." Well shit. I grab my staff and follow her down the hall and downstairs, where half a dozen soldiers have just entered by breaking down the front door. They part to make way for someone, and in walks Aversa wielding a pretty grim-looking blade. I don't really remember her having a sword, though. What's she holding in her other hand? I can't really...oh my god. I suppress the urge to vomit as I realize she's got a grip on Melinda's head, suspended by her hair. She throws it in front of her, eyeing Maribelle as she does so.

"Greetings, Lady Maribelle," she coos venomously. "Have you been enjoying our visit so far?"

Without emotion, Maribelle steps to the bottom of the stairs and replies, "I mean to parley with the leader of this invasion. Would that be you?"

Aversa flashes a toothy grin. "Why yes, I'm so glad you perceived that. And of course, you have your parley. Here are my terms." She gestures to the men on either side of her, who move forward and seize her arms and make quick work of binding her hands behind her back.

Suddenly, a blast from behind the group throws a few men off their feet and across the room. I realize with a start that Jackson must be making a rescue attempt.

However, when the dust clears, it's Isadora hefting the massive axe. Does that mean Jackson…? "HAVE AT YOU, UNHOLY WRETCH!" Isadora shrieks, levelling a blast straight at her daughter's murderer. Aversa casually flicks her sword down onto the blast, splitting it and diverting it from her with almost no effort. In a blur of movement, Aversa is suddenly upon the old maid, and she stabs her through the chest once, twice, and before the third strike hits, Isadora is already collapsing.

"Isadora!" Maribelle cries, but held in place by those men she isn't in a position to help. As Isadora breathes her last, a memory flashes through my head:

Know when to use your power. And use it.

Steeling my resolve, I give shout and make a mad dash for Aversa, thinking that's the fastest way to get myself good and dead. I actually get within a few feet, but then I feel hands grabbing me and pulling me away. No, what the hell are you doing with this detainment shit! Kill me already!

"You bunch of fuckers! Kill me, I dare you, I double dare you! You all ain't shit! Your mamas ain't–"

A sharp pain in the back of my head ushers in a very quick and very complete darkness.

* * *

 **A/N: Hope you enjoyed this one. Been a while since we've had some good old-fashioned carnage, eh? As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**


	7. Ch 7: Death in the Stupidest Way Yet

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 7: Death in the Stupidest Way Yet**

I wrench myself out of my dreamless sleep and instantly know something is wrong before my eyes even open. This isn't the right smell. This is musty, damp, and unpleasant. The room is too cold to be the bedroom I've been living in for six weeks. I don't want to open my eyes. I know what happened. Please, don't do this. Not this. I don't know if I can bear it. Everything is too real.

Eventually though, I open my eyes anyway. Rough stone walls and a dimly lit stone floor greet my sight. I have been spared an almost sarcastically hard pillow on which to sleep, but that's about it.

Except for Maribelle, who I've just noticed is sitting in the corner of the room, glaring at the black iron door to the maybe ten foot by ten foot cell. As I sit up slowly, feeling my poor spine try to pop back into proper place, she turns her eyes to me, but doesn't say anything. What's there to say?

Actually, quite a bit, I decide after about half a second.

"FFFFFFUCK!" I roar at the ceiling. I think I see Maribelle flinch. "GOD DAMNIT! It's all set in fucking stone now, yeah! They're all dead! The respawn point moved; too fucking bad for you, captain! Too bad for you, Isadora! Maybe next playthrough, Mindy! GAAAAH!" I go on like this for longer than I'd care to admit. Somewhere in the middle I notice Maribelle has closed her eyes and has pointed her head down. She looks like she's trying really hard to tune me out. Something in my head clicks on seeing her like that.

"And you! What the hell were you thinking, huh?" I demand, stepping over to her, and once she realizes I'm talking to her she looks up. I can't really read her expression. "Parley? Seriously? With these assholes? What in the nine layers of hell did you think was going to happen, huh? Are you messed in the head?"

She explodes to her feet. I guess that expression was 'anger boiling just under the surface' then. "And what would you have had me do, Randall? I was backed into a corner there, no options! We couldn't do anything else!"

"Actually, we had a great option! The one I suggested _before you decided to parley with the murdering invaders_! It was running away, you dunce!"

"And then what, my subjects are all killed while you and I flee like cravens to safety?"

"News flash, dipshit, they probably got killed anyway!" I can tell by the look on her face that she's never been called that before. In another situation it might have been funny. "What, you think the Plegians just packed up and called it a day after bagging you and me? I bet they're still torching the whole damned dukedom, just cuz they can!"

"No ruler worth the position they hold abandons their subjects! NO ONE!" she spits back.

"And a whoooooole lot of good that did them this time, huh?" I retort, getting right in her face. "I bet they're all sooooo glad their duke's daughter was willing to just hand herself over from the word 'go'." She pushes me roughly away, but I'm not done. "For all the good it's doing them. I bet they don't feel abandoned at all right now." She doesn't have a reply to that, though whether it's because she can't come up with an argument or because she's pretty much frothing at the mouth at this point, I can't really tell. "You know this means we're gonna start a war, right?"

She calms down just enough to manage an incredulous question. "What does that mean?"

"You and me. They're gonna start a war getting us back, no doubt about it. Chrom and the others. There's gonna be real, full-fledged war now, and it will be because you got us captured. You understand that? This shit is on _you_. The invasion of Themis was one thing, but the moment that the Shepherds retaliate, and they will, it's all over for the brief era of peace Ylisse has enjoyed. Now a whole shitload of people are gonna die, and it all started with you and little old me. All because we got captured! We should've just died! _I_ should've just died! Maybe things could have turned out differently! But no, this is the one we get now."

At this point I've pretty much spent myself. I grab the shitty pillow off the floor and stalk off to the corner, curling up with it and probably looking pretty sorry for myself. Maribelle doesn't move at all for a little while. She just closes her eyes again and breathes really slowly, and really loudly. After what feels like an eternity, she sighs and I hear a faint _whump_ of fabric on stone. I realize with a start that she must have fallen asleep. She must be exhausted too, I suppose. I wouldn't be surprised if she fought all the way here, wherever 'here' is.

I'd like to sleep as well, but at this point I don't feel like I can manage it. Partly because of all the horrible shit that got set in stone last time I fell unconscious, but also because Maribelle tosses and turns a ton in her sleep and there's no safe area in this tiny cell. Even curled up in the corner, I still occasionally receive a haphazard kick from her. It's irritating, but as long as she's sleeping it's fine, I guess.

Some time later (you kinda lose track of time when you're in a mostly dark stone room with no concept of the passing of hours), a tiny latch in the bottom of the door opens and a pair of small bread loaves are tossed inside, as well as a small, flat canteen of water. So at least they aren't planning on starving us out. Once the latch closes, I spend an extended period of time inspecting it, but it looks both thoroughly locked and too small to be useful even if it were open all the time. They really aren't taking chances with us.

* * *

I do think a lot about Jackson and the others, but after some indeterminate amount of time I realize it's not really doing anything to help. For the time being, we need to focus on ourselves and how we are going to get through this. Now that some of the tension has dissolved and I've calmed down a little, I decide I need to apologize, but my cellmate here doesn't exactly make it easy. Maribelle is pretending to be asleep, but I can tell she's not really because she doesn't move around nearly enough. She also deliberately faces away from me as she's lying on the ground. To test this I step to the other side of her and she feigns a sleepy roll to face the other way. I guess I can understand though. She's probably livid with me for taking an already bad situation and blaming it on her.

I know they say time heals all wounds, but to be honest there's literally nothing else to do here so I want to speed things along a little.

"Hey, Maribelle. I know you're not really asleep." She flinches a little at the sudden breaking of the silence, but otherwise doesn't move or say anything. "You don't have to say anything. I'm sorry for what I said earlier. We were caught in a shitty situation, and you didn't really have any good options available to you. You were just doing what you thought was best. All of this is my fault. I could have prevented all of this, but I didn't because I got careless."

She mumbles something so faintly I can't make it out.

"Sorry, what?"

She shifts so that she's looking a little over her shoulder at me. "There was nothing you could have done either."

"Oh, you'd be surprised," I reply. Though to be fair, you would think that making a bum rush for the overleveled boss would be the best way to get killed. I stand by the actual method of dying I was going for there. I don't say that part out loud.

"Don't be silly. We were overrun. Unprepared. Caught by total surprise. It's a miracle you survived that blow to the head at all, honestly." Right. A real stroke of luck. "I'm...glad that you…" A sob breaks through. Oh boy. I'm _not_ good with crying girls, I'm really not. "She was like a mother to me," she manages between sniffles and sobs. I realize she means Isadora, and the weight of her loss hits me like a ton of bricks. I've been such a selfish ass! I've only known these people for like a month and a half, but they've been like family to her for probably her entire life. Between the two of us, I can't even pretend to dispute who lost more. "And the others, they were always…so kind to me, even when I was a selfish child! I still am one! I let my ego get in the way of thinking straight, and you were right! The fighting will start all over again, and it will have been by my idiotic choices!"

"Hey," I say cautiously, holding a hand up awkwardly because I'm not sure if I should lay it on her shoulder or not, "you can't really blame yourself. I was just angry before, and needed to throw it at someone. I'm sorry I said that, especially when it's bull. Chrom and the others would have demanded a response even if we weren't captured. The attack of Themis was a first strike by any metric, so if and when war comes around, it won't be on you, alright? You never made any move against them, even when they came in guns blazing."

She sniffles. "Guns?"

"Shit. Never mind. The point still stands. None of this is your fault. Alright?" I decide I will put a hand on her shoulder after all. She doesn't move away, which seems like her version of forgiveness for the shit I said before.

"Alright. It's just…I just...we couldn't _do_ anything!" The sobbing returns with a vengeance. "What sort of evil monsters just butcher innocent people like that?" Oh. I guess we're hugging now? I try my best to keep it together on my end, but underneath I can feel my anger bubbling up. Gangrel and the rest of his pals are gonna pay for this. For now though, all I can do is try to squeeze the sobs away. I'm not sure which of us falls asleep first.

* * *

"So I guess this is kinda weird to ask, but like...are we cool?"

"What do you mean?" Maribelle's voice is still kind of raw from all the crying yesterday (I'm pretty sure it was yesterday. Three meals ago?)

"You and me. I just need to know that we're good, even after the, uh, spat we had the other day."

"Oh. Well, yes, of course we are fine. We have to stick together and keep our wits about us, you know. In the clutches of the enemy, you and I are the only allies each other has." Seems like she's at least a little bit back to normal, or at least calmed down. That's good.

"Okay, that's what I was thinking. Thanks."

* * *

I am literally hitting my head against the wall. "Bored bored bored bored bored _booooored_."

"Randall. Please. I know you're bored. You can stop informing me of that."

"Yeah, but I'm so fuckin' boooored! How long have we even been here? However long fifteen meals is, so I'm guessing like five whole days. With just. These. Walls. God, I'd kill for even just some music or some…thing…" A thought occurs to me. "Hey Maribelle. You know what would really piss the Plegians off?"

"What?"

"If we looked like we were having fun in here."

"What do you mean by that?" I think I see her redden a little, and her brow furrows. Oh. No wait.

"I don't mean like that! I just meant I would teach you some music from where I come from," I say quickly, raising my hands in preemptive defense.

"Oh. Well, I suppose it would be better than nothing…What kind of music does your homeland have?" she asks.

"Wow. That's actually kind of a big question. Hmmm…" I need something relentlessly cheery and upbeat to chase away some of this somber mood. But where's a good place to start? I consider for a few moments, and then the answer hits me. "Alright, but you gotta promise you'll actually sing it with me once I teach you, okay?"

She raises a brow. "Um…Agreed?"

I stand up, already grinning. This is gonna be awesome. "Alright, so the beginning goes like this:

 _When I wake up,  
_ _Oh you know I'm gonna be,  
_ _I'm gonna be the man  
_ _Who wakes up next to you..._ "

* * *

"This song is a bit irksome...but it is catchy," Maribelle admits.

"Don't worry, it comes around."

* * *

"Dah da da dah!" I sing out.

"Dah da da dah!" she responds.

"Dah da da dah!"

"Dah da da dah!"

And we both launch into a hearty "Dah da dah da da dah da da dah da da dah dah daaaaah!"

There's a bang on the door. "Shut up in there!" a gruff voice calls to us.

"Shit and fall in it!" I reply cheerily, and we resume singing. Totally worth the extremely burnt bread and suspiciously murky water we receive for our next meal.

* * *

"So...this foot goes like this, and then back, and forth, and then twirl?"

"Yes, exactly! Now you're finally getting the hang of it!"

She's been teaching me some of the dance styles of the Ylissean court, since we got tired of singing a couple days ago. It's taken some doing, because I'm not used to dancing with a body this tall. Also because I've never been good at it, but shut up.

We take a break, having a few sips of our precious water canteen. "By my count, we just had our thirty-first meal a little bit ago. We've legitimately been in this hole for what will soon be eleven days," I mention.

"Ugh, don't remind me. I haven't been able to clean myself off in what feels like ages! I must look just awful," Maribelle moans. Her hair has long since uncurled (now pulled into a ponytail tied by the canteen strap), and she looks a little ragged, but overall it could be worse.

"Preaching to the choir there, sister," I reply.

She smirks. "I was going to say, you're starting to smell quite repugnant."

I put a hand to my chest in mock horror. "Why, I never!"

The door bangs open suddenly. Oh shit, here we go I guess. Before either of us has time to react, we are each set upon by a pair of guards who fasten our hands behind our backs and force us to rise and walk out. We are warned to stay silent and are led down a dark corridor, slowly sloping up until we eventually reach another door. When this one opens, we are hit full-force with the light of the sun. After ten-plus days of captivity, it overloads my senses instantly and my head is splitting with pain. A yelp from Maribelle behind me confirms that she isn't enjoying it either.

We are shepherded into a mercifully dark wagon (there is a barred window built into the door, but it limits the light suitably) with a singular wooden bench and are told to sit down and shut up. To ensure our cooperation, a guard with a large axe joins us in the wagon. The wagon sets off, and at one point I sneeze; unable to cover my sneeze, it lands fully in the guard's face. He doesn't look pleased.

"You looking for a broken nose, meat?" he demands.

"I'm sorry, was I supposed to just not sneeze somehow?" I ask incredulously.

"Shut up! You were told no talking!"

"You asked me a question, though." Oh, I'm having fun now.

"Why you little–" and that's a gauntleted fist to my face. I fall off the bench and end up lying on my side on the floor. "You know, the important one here is the duchess," he says, giving me a solid kick to the stomach and earning a coughing fit from me. Maribelle doesn't seem to know what to do, but she looks properly livid. "Way I see it, if all they really need is her, then I don't need to get you there alive at all."

I manage to make eye contact with him. "Do it, I dare ya. You don't have the Dwayne Johnsons for it."

He looks confused for a second, but it at least registers that I was making fun of him. "Rrgh, you testing me?" He grips his axe. I'm gonna regret this.

"If by 'testing' you mean 'calling you out on being a little bitch boy,' then yeah, I guess that's what I'm doing," I say, already tasting the iron of blood in my mouth from that punch to the face.

"Randall, stop this!" Maribelle protests, but I'm too in deep now.

"Ooooh, look at mister big man over here, he can only land a hit on his enemies if they're tied up and sitting in front of him cuz axe accuracy is consistently shit. He's so tough, isn't he, Maribelle?" I notice his arms are raised above his head. I hear Maribelle scream. Oh wow, he's really gonna do–

* * *

 _Of course the Risen would attack us now. We don't have time for this! Alright, as long as everyone is accounted for we can get this out of the way. There's Lissa; good, Frederick is with her. Everyone's got someone partnered up, like Robin said. Here they come. Gods, I can't get used to the way they move._

 _Bat down the obvious swing, kick the chest, he's down. Plunge the blade into his chest, hold for a second, and there's the dissolving. Gotta make sure these buggers are actually dead before you let up; we learned that back in the Northroad._

 _Cut down one more, two more, take a quick look around. There's Lissa and Frederick, there's Stahl and Sully, Kellam and Miriel, Robin and Lon'qu (still not sure how I feel about him yet, so she's keeping an eye on him), and Sumia is keeping up with me. There's Vaike, but where's– Oh no._

" _Vaike, where is Donnel?" I shout. I don't see Donnel anywhere near him. Suddenly, a scream from our rear position. I rush over, slashing down another fighter on the way. He's surrounded, and with all those axe wielders he doesn't stand a chance with that training lance. I'm fighting through as best as I can, but by the time I fight my way to the center of the mob, there's precious little of him that still looks like the plucky farm boy we recruited. He collapses, clearly dead. No, no no. Not so soon after we promised his mother he'd come home safely._

 _A glancing blow from behind on my armored shoulder shocks me back to reality. I've fought my way to the center of the mob, but fighting my way out is another task entirely. Every time I rear back to take a swing, the blade catches on the weapon of an enemy behind me. I'm taking too many hits now. Whenever I cut down one, it seems two more take its place. Just when I can feel my strength fading, I see a flash of golden light, and then there's Robin, carving a path out for me while Lon'qu, Miriel, and Kellam hold them off of her. I clamber out of the mob, but my head is light and my vision is rapidly blurring. I look down and notice all the blood spilling out of the many lacerations I earned in the fray._

" _Chrom, no!" I hear faintly as Robin catches me while I'm falling to the ground. I guess I got too reckless there. Where's Lissa…? "–rom, stay with–" I can't hear properly, or else you need to speak up._

" _Gods," I begin to pray, but my strength fades too fast for me to say much else. I feel a groan escape my chest, but it feels no need to refill with air at this point. I can barely see, but Robin looks very worried. I failed them, didn't I? I couldn't even keep one farm boy safe…_

* * *

I wake up to the sound of my second thirty-first meal being tossed through the door latch. Ugh, I'm back here again. Oh well, I guess I did choose this fate when I picked a fight with the guy with an axe and a bad temper.

I sit there for a while, chewing moodily on the distinctly stone-like bread, ruminating. I know they're coming for us today, but does that really change anything? Even if I see them coming, there's gonna be like four or five of them and they'll all by armed. I doubt there's any version of that encounter that doesn't end with death. I may just have to cut my losses and count on rescue from the Shepherds later on. Jeez, that sounds so passive. I really need to get some combat skills of my own.

I let Maribelle teach me for the second time the steps to the High Court Waltz, and she seems pretty impressed with how quickly I am picking it up (it took me like three hours to get even passable the first time). The little benefits of respawning, ladies and gentlemen.

After a while, I figure it's nearly time for the guards to show up. Sure enough, when I listen closely I can hear them approach from down the hall. I stand up preemptively, prompting Maribelle to do the same.

The door bangs open again. "Sup, guys?" I ask as they come in, earning a smack to the back of the head as they once again tie my hands behind my back. Maybe I shouldn't sass them so much this time. We're loaded up into the wagon and sit in obedient silence for the whole several-hour-long trip. When I sneeze this time, I aim for the wall to the side of me.

When we are offloaded, I squint for a long while to get adjusted to the light, but when I can see properly I find I recognize this canyon. Hoo boy, it's time for Chapter 5 pretty soon. Ugh, that means if I die during the fight I'll have to do the whole ride again.

"Hey, serious question," I ask the guard standing with us. "Can I take like a five minute nap?"

He gives me a glare. "Don't ask that again."

I shut my mouth. Fine then, be that way. Maribelle looks at me incredulously. I shrug as best I can with my arms tied. Guess we're waiting on the Shepherds now.

* * *

Some time later, we can see a group approach on the horizon, looking distinctly bluish. Seems like Ylisseans to me. Out of a particularly ornate carriage on a ridge above and far ahead of us, I see Gangrel and Aversa step out to greet the Shepherds. Chrom, Lissa, and Emmeryn step forward and begin talking with the Plegian royals, and I hadn't realized until now how livid Aversa's lies about why they've taken Maribelle captive would make me. I know Maribelle's got her scripted line about crone school or whatever, but I cut in first.

"Actually, fuck your mama with the L.A. Raiders. Chrom, I know you know this is all horseshit. We're healers, we don't even know _how_ to hurt people properly! This psycho cut down some of Maribelle's closest friends without a second thought!"

Aversa seems taken aback for a moment, but recovers quickly. "You see? No manners at all. Such nasty birds simply had to be caged."

Gangrel cuts in. "Such a violent temper speaks to their guilt. This will call for a weighty punishment. And if they were to later confess to being Ylissean spies? My goodness! It would take an act of _considerable_ good faith to repair our relations." Oh boy, threats of torture against me and probably the closest friend I've got here? You've got another thing coming. I can feel my temper getting the better of me.

"Hey, Gangrel," I call, and he looks down at me, grinning smugly. "If you lay a hand on Maribelle, or any of my friends, I'm gonna rip your arm off and shove it so far up your ass that you'll be able to wave hello by opening your mouth."

Maribelle gawks at me for a moment, but then pipes up, "We have done nothing wrong! It is they who should confess! They are the ones who invaded Ylisse. They razed an entire village!"

The negotiations continue for some time, but to be honest I'm only barely listening. Mostly I'm just glaring at Gangrel and Aversa, nearly frothing mad at this point, held back only by the guard, who's got a hold on my bound wrists. Maribelle is trying to be helpful, but I'm just spouting obscenities and insults about Gangrel's outfit mostly.

Some soldiers take the field and brandish their weapons at Emmeryn, which Chrom seems to be having precisely none of. He springs forward and plants his sword in the front man's chest. I won't lie, I wasn't sad to see it happen at this point.

"Now that's a declaration of war if I've ever heard one…" Gangrel says, a mock grimace on his face. "A big, messy war that will bleed you Ylisseans dry. Bwa ha ha!" Chrom's expression is somewhere between fury and guilt at the realization of what he's done.

I was so caught up in watching Chrom declare war that I didn't notice Aversa approaching us until she was already there, wearing an awful smirk. "Poor, brain-dead fools. Are you really worth fighting a war over?"

If my hands weren't tied, I'd have held up a hand to stop her talking. "Alright, save it. We already hashed this out, and we've pretty much decided the war is your fault. Don't bother."

She looks quite irritated. "I think we've had quite enough out of you." She holds up a black-covered tome and opens it. However, before she has time to begin casting anything, I feel a weirdly warm spray hit the back of my neck. At the same time, my hands are suddenly freed. I realize Ricken must have come to our rescue. Oh, that's gross! I just realized the spray on my back was blood from the guard who was holding us. He also must have used some localized air blades to cut the ropes. Wow, he really is skilled, huh?

"What's good, my man?" I can't help but ask.

He looks pretty pleased at my calling him 'man'. "You two, go now! You're free!"

" _Ricken_?" Maribelle cries. "What are you doing here?"

"Let's discuss that later," I cut her off.

Meanwhile, Aversa seems to think he's nothing to worry about. "Oh, is this your little boyfriend?" she asks me. Wait, hang on– "Isn't he just precious."

Ricken, too, seems miffed at the question. "Don't talk down to me, witch!" He whips up a few blades of Elwind that she has to put all her focus into warding off.

"Come on!" Ricken cries, and we all start to book it for the rest of the Shepherds. But wow, that's a longer way off than I thought. It looks like they're grouping up and preparing to fight. I've never been so glad to see an army before.

* * *

 **A/N: Hi all! Sorry for the delay on this chapter; in moving apartments, I've been doing battle to get my internet connection back and only recently emerged victorious. I hope the somewhat longer chapter than usual made up for it. As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**


	8. Ch 8: Literally Wile E Coyote

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 8: Literally Wile E. Coyote**

"Oh, Christ!"

I say this for probably the sixth or so time in a couple minutes as Ricken, Maribelle, and I continue to dodge and weave around Plegian soldiers that block our path to the rest of the Shepherds. On this occasion, I have very narrowly dodged a myrmidon's blade aimed at lopping off my head. I think he may have nicked some of my hair, actually.

Fortunately, now that we have Ricken with us, we have at least some offensive backup. He aims a few carefully placed blades of wind at the attacker and, while he doesn't kill him, he's certainly gonna be less of a threat without that arm. Jeez, that's actually pretty gross.

Still, as we continue to make our way down the east side of the slope, it seems pretty apparent that we will be heading into the core of the enemy forces long before we reach some friendly forces. I do hear a lot of fighting down below, but I can't really see them from here. We round a corner, and thenー

Oh wow, that's a lot of enemies. Maybe they won't see us? No, they saw us. Shit, shit, back up. Wait, no, there's more of them charging down the slope too. Run for the far corner. Seems to go well for a minute, except that's quite the drop-off. Yeah, that fall would definitely kill us. I turn around, and my heart sinks. God damnit.

We are pretty well surrounded at this point. Ricken is trying his best, but there's just no chance of making it out of this without help from the Shepherds below. He levels another few blades at the nearest enemy, but two more step in to take his place. The young mage yelps in panic as the sword comes down, hard, onto his head. Several more blows all connect around the same time, and before he even hits the ground, he's been reduced to a bloody heap. Bile rises in my throat.

Maribelle beside me shrieks in terror, her face having caught some of the blood from the assault. She takes an unsteady step back, and then another. Hey Maribelle, that cliff is pretty closeー

She goes tumbling off, yelping in surprise as she falls, and a few seconds later I faintly hear the sound of impact against the rocks below. Even if she survived that, there's no way she's in any condition to do anything now. In my case, I want to be absolutely sure, so no leaping for me. Ugh, this sucks. I turn, ice in my chest, toward the soldiers grinning at me. They expect fear in my eyes; I do my best not to give it to them.

I grit my teeth so hard I think I feel one of them chip off another. My nails dig into my palms as I take a step toward the Plegians. One of them huffs in annoyance as I refuse to let them know I'm putting most of my effort into not letting my knees give way (the robes hide that pretty well). None of them are moving though.

"Come on, let's have it," I say. "I don't have all fucking day." I get more vulgar when I'm scared, alright? One of their fighters steps in front of me, holding his axe's blade inches away from my face with a grin on his face. I gather up the saliva in my mouth and spit onto the axe, managing to smirk even as he's turning the axe in his hands and cracking the back of the blade against my head. I allow my legs to finally give up on holding me up at this point. The rocky ground is hot against my face.

"You little shit!" the fighter says, and with a snarl drags me by my ponytail to the edge of the cliff. Everything's a little blurry right now from the hit, but my stomach still leaps in fear at the sight of that drop-off. "Say hello to blondie down there," the fighter says, and just like that I'm falling. And just as quickly, I'm not falling anymore. Ow.

Oddly though, I don't die right away. My stupidly self-preserving body forces my eyes to focus on the movement above me. What is that?

"Randall!" I hear faintly, even though the source seems to be standing over me. Oh, wait, I recognize that hair.

"H-hi Robin," I gargle out around the blood in my mouth.

I can just barely perceive her brow furrowing. "Gods damnit," she says, and after that everything fades pretty quickly.

* * *

You know what's worse than taking a really long wagon ride in bound silence? Doing it two and a half times because you just can't stop getting hit by axes all the time. On the plus side, I'm actually getting that waltz that Maribelle has been teaching me down pretty well.

I do a lot of thinking about what we can do to survive this time. But there's not a lot coming to mind. We were taking the most direct path between us and the Shepherds, and in a canyon like that there aren't a lot of places we can hide either. There's just no way to break through that many soldiers, though. What can we actually do? Just hope that we get lucky this time and the Shepherds can get to us first this time?

I find myself thinking in circles like that for pretty much the whole ride to the canyon. And once again, we are dragged out of the wagon only to be forced to wait for something to happen. I do not want to have to do that ride again.

"Hey, what the hell are you doing?" the guard watching over us asks as I take a seat on the ground and attempt to get comfortable enough to sleep.

"Just leave it be," I reply, but he grabs me by the back of my shirt's collar and pulls me back up.

"This isn't naptime!" he says.

"Literally, just give me like five minutes," I say, and give him my attempt at puppy-dog eyes. "I promise to behave when the Shepherds get here."

"You will behave regardless, if you value your life," he replies.

"Pleeeeeease? Please please please please pleー?"

I am dropped like a sack of potatoes. "I want absolute silence," the guard warns. I nod, and arrange myself in a more or less comfy sitting position. I can feel Maribelle's incredulous eyes on me. Sorry Mari, but this is actually kind of important. I don't want to go on another wagon ride.

* * *

It takes a while to fall asleep, but fortunately it doesn't prove impossible. I think I dream of thunderstorms, but when I wake up it turns out I was just hearing the approach of the soldiers on both sides, taking the field and preparing for battle. I hadn't noticed them the first time, as I was so focused on the exchange between the Exalt & co. and Gangrel, but I can see now why Emmeryn so badly wanted to avoid conflict.

To my credit, I will say I swear a great deal less this time around. Partially because I am so focused on trying to find a path that's relatively soldier-free (I don't find one), and partially because on further reflection I've decided that maybe it's better to keep it restrained a little bit and, as my older self put it, stick to the script. I'm doing a good job of keeping my mouth shut until Gangrel threatens Maribelle with torture again.

All the plans, all the calm, everything, I can feel draining out of my head, replaced with white hot anger once again.

"If you ever, _ever_ touch her, I will fucking dismantle you!" I borderline shriek. I'm not proud of how feminine that probably sounds. The guard has to hold me back at this point, and to make me stay in line he gives me a swift punch to the gut. Maribelle cries out in alarm, but as I sink to the ground I decide I'm pretty much done talking smack on the king. For the remainder of the exchange, I just bite my tongue, sometimes literally.

The whole scene is a little bit surreal to experience the second time. Of course I've had a few experiences like this with other bits in the past, but in this case I'm just literally watching the same scene unfold in front of me. Unlike in the games themselves, though, there's no skip button here. Instead I'm just kind of looking at the dirt, feeling the dull ache in my stomach where I got punched. It's kind of real and not real at the same time.

My borderline-trance is interrupted when Aversa arrives to taunt us. "Poor, brain-dead fools. Are you really worth fighting a war over?"

"Ugh, fuck oooooff," I sigh, struggling to stand up with my hands tied behind my back. I manage it eventually, though. "Literally everybody thinks this is your fault. You're not fooling anyone with this shit. There's not even a reason to fight this war, unless you count all the shit you're up to with Validar."

Her eyes widen for a moment, then her brow drops into an angry glare. "How do you…?"

I can't hide my grin. "Whoopsies. Looks like your secret plans aren't so secret, eh? By the way, you're totally being brainwashed, and it's super funny."

"Enough!" She begins summoning a dark magic spell, and I realize I might not have given Ricken ample time to save us. That ball of magic gets really big, really quickly.

"Oh, Christ!" I say for the (second) first time that day. I'm really not interested in finding out what death by dark magic feels like.

Fortunately, I don't have to learn that feeling just yet, as Ricken springs onto the scene in a burst of Elwind, interrupting her casting. Actually, he's a little less precise this time (no doubt my fault for taunting Aversa and giving less time to work with), so I feel myself getting cut a little by the wind blades as my bindings come undone. High resistance is great, as I get to keep my hands, unlike the guard behind us.

"Cripes! Sorry," Ricken says, noticing our bleeding forearms. I wonder briefly if my training with Maribelle made my arms in particular insensitive to pain.

"You're good, my guy! Let's make like trees!" I reply, stretching my arms as we begin running from the disoriented Aversa.

"Make like trees? What does that even mean?" Ricken calls after me.

"Not important. I'll tell you if we live," I reply. I realize that I'm grinning despite myself, the thrill of adrenaline temporarily dispelling the fear of capture. My optimism is dented a little when I have to duck to avoid getting decapitated by a pursuing mercenary, but we manage to avoid any major injuries until we reach the same bend at the cliff we were stopped at last time.

When we round the corner, once again there's about a half-dozen soldiers waiting to trap us. Meanwhile, we are once again being pursued by the men behind us. We are cornered again, just like last time.

Oh, wait. _That's_ not like last time. Hello Aversa.

A burst of dark magic throws a few Plegian soldiers aside as she zeroes in on me, her face twisted in an almost inhuman scowl. Maybe I shouldn't have shown my hand that quickly with the Validar knowledge.

"I think you know just a little bit too much," she growls, eyes flashing.

"And I think you might know too little," I reply, defiant to the last. When I see her flex her right hand, gathering magic, I instinctively grab Maribelle and Ricken by the shoulders and push them behind me. After all, my resistance stat has proven pretty impressive so far.

Aversa rears back to blast me, and admittedly, a small whimper sneaks through my lips. She lets loose her attack, and it hits me squarely in the chest.

I have never felt anything like the magic she uses. Cold isn't a good enough word for the sensation; it's more like I can feel my body shriveling under the weight of darkness. It's an exhaustion unlike anything I've ever experienced. Of course, I hit the ground, hard.

I don't die though. Not yet, anyway. Gives me a chance to contemplate how much this hurts, a chance my brain is happy to take advantage of.

Aversa stands over me, clearly relishing the moment of dominance. For the briefest of moments, I think that if I were a different sort of man, this situation would be kind of hot. The thought makes me laugh, but it comes out choked and garbled from my mangled chest.

"Something funny?" Aversa demands.

"Leave him alone!" Maribelle interjects, stepping around me to stand between me and the dark mage. "I won't let you hurt him!"

Aversa rears her arm back, readying another blast. No, please don'tー

Suddenly, my vision is filled with brilliant light. Every inch of my body tingles, then vibrates, and then I white out for a moment, feeling nothing, not even the pain in my chest. Then, just as quickly, it's back, and the light is gone.

Disoriented, I look around as best I can. There's Maribelle and Ricken, lying near me. Where's Aversa? Where are the Plegians? Where are we, for that matter?

We're still outside, but it looks like we are somehow at the bottom of the cliff now. In seconds, Maribelle is on her feet and has walked out of my field of vision. When she comes back, she has a staff in hand, pointed at my chest.

As if getting hit with dark magic wasn't awful enough, the feeling of having that damage undone is all the more intense. It reminds me a little of when I got devoured by lava a few weeks ago, actually, except instead of my pain sensors turning off over time, they seem to wake up more and more as my body is repaired.

I can't avoid screaming in pain, clenching my fists so tightly my knuckles pop at every joint. Once again, I feel my vision fading. No, wait, I can't fall unconscious right before a battle! I can't! Stay awake, damnit! Stay…

* * *

My eyes snap open, and almost instantly I'm sitting up. I'm inside a tent, with a light breeze flowing through the open flaps. I look around a little, and notice I have a tent mate.

Why is Lissa lying near me?

"Oh, you're awake. Thank the gods." I look to the source of the voice, and in walks Robin, along with Ricken.

"What's happening?" I ask, choking a little on the words with how surprisingly dry my throat is. Fortunately, Ricken is prepared with a cup of water for me. After handing it to me, he steps outside again.

"The battle is ongoing, but nearing its end. I've been taking care of things on the south side of the battlefield, while Chrom is leading our forces north to head the Plegians off." She looks anxious, fidgeting uncomfortably.

"Is everyone–? Is Maribelle–?"

"As far as I know, everyone is safe. You have nothing to fear," she interrupts me.

"Is she out there?"

Robin looks at Lissa briefly. "Yes, though I wish it weren't necessary. With Lissa out of commission, though…"

"What's wrong with Lissa? Is she hurt?" I turn to face her, instantly searching for injuries.

"No, don't worry. She's just exhausted herself. Using a Rescue staff on three people at once will do that to you," Robin says, walking over and crouching beside Lissa to check on her. "It was very brave, and probably very foolish, based on what I've read about the use of Rescue staves."

I had read something similar in my studies. While it is technically possible to transport many people with just one staff, each additional person adds exponential difficulty to the task. Transporting three people down a cliffside to safety must have been incredibly taxing.

"Looks like I owe her again," I sigh, trying to smile.

Robin fills me in. Once Lissa had transported us to safety, she collapsed, leaving it up to Maribelle to borrow Lissa's Mend staff and fix my mangled self. I was then moved to the recovery tent alongside Lissa while Maribelle took her place in formation. To hear Robin tell it, it seems I very nearly didn't make it after taking a hit like that.

"I've seen dark magic in battle before, but I too got a look at you before Maribelle closed you up. Whatever blast you took, it was from something beyond what I've seen before. Are Plegian mages truly so powerful?" Robin asks.

"Not all of them, most likely," I reply. "But Aversa's a different beast altogether."

"Aversa entered the battle? I didn't anticipate that," Robin says, a sharp edge to her voice. "I hope nothing's–"

"Robin!" a voice calls from outside. I think it's Sully. "We've got things mostly wrapped up, but their captain and his guard are flying out of range of Virion's arrows. They look like they're heading here to try and catch us from behind."

Another unseen voice replies, and I'm sure from the pitch that it's Ricken's. "Let them try! I'll knock them out of the sky!"

Robin stands. I try to as well, but she gently holds me down with a hand on my shoulder.

"It's going to be alright. Stay here," she commands, and grabs a yellow-backed tome on her way out of the tent.

Despite her order, I get up anyway and, despite the lingering fatigue, make my way to the front of the tent so I can see outside. The steep cliff faces keep much of the battlefield out of sight, but sure enough, far above in the sky I can see a few wyverns silhouetted against the light of the afternoon sun. I can also see Virion, perched on the back of Frederick's horse, but it seems he doesn't want to risk firing in the direction of the base camp. Though Frederick is riding as fast as he can, it doesn't look like he will be able to get into a position for Virion to fire. Looks like it's up to the mages.

The first of three wyverns dives down, and holy shit are those things bigger in person. He's heading straight for Ricken, but the young mage is grinning confidently. Once the rider is in range, he lets loose a few blades of Elwind, and within a second the wyvern's wings are well and truly perforated. Some blood from the beast falls on Ricken himself, but he seems not to mind much. The rider tries to get his mount to pull up, but with the wings out of commission, he only plummets straight down. Ricken steps back to leave a few feet between him and the crash zone, with rider and mount colliding as one with the rocky ground. An unholy _crunch_ of metal and flesh grates on my ears as they make contact.

Meanwhile, Robin is firing bolts straight at her adversary. It looks like she got ahold of an Elthunder tome somehow, as the lightning flies in a straight line from her hand to the target, tearing holes in the wyvern's wings and destabilizing it. The rider, undaunted, tries to take a swing anyway, but she draws her sword just in time and parries the blow, then as the rider flies past her she transitions into another Elthunder attack, shooting the rider in the back and sending him flying from his wyvern. When he hits the ground, flat on his face, he doesn't move again.

That leaves only the captain (I think his name is Orton?), taking advantage of Robin while her back is turned.

"Robin, look out!" I call out, and she turns just a second too late, parrying the blow slightly but still taking an axe strike to the head, knocking her to the ground.

While Ricken starts shooting Elwind at the captain, I'm inside the tent, searching wildly for a staff or some vulneraries. I find what looks to be a Mend staff, and rush to Robin's side.

I try really hard not to think about how I've never used a Mend staff before as I point the staff at her head and will the magic to obey me and heal her. It's not hard to imagine that this is a wound that could kill her, so even though the more advanced staff bucks at my command, I stand firm and force the magic out. Thin ribbons of white light snake out from the orb and cradle her head, closing the wound and (gross!) putting her skull back in shape. After a moment, her eyelids twitch, then open.

"Oh, thank fucking Christ," I say, then realize I had been holding my breath.

She looks a little bit confused. "Randall? When did you…?" Oh good, another bout of amnesia. "When did you learn to use a Mend staff?" Nevermind.

"We've got bigger worries," I remind her, then stand up to check on the fight with Orton. It looks like Ricken got ahold of his mount with some air blades, so now the fight is on the ground. Sully and Orton are duking it out, axe on lance. Looks like Sully bailed on her mount as well. Chivalrous to the end, I suppose.

Despite the weapon disadvantage, she seems to be handling him pretty well. Especially when an arrow flies down from the cliff above and embeds itself in the left side of his head. I look up, and there's Virion, waving cheerily from the cliff a few dozen feet above us, still astride Frederick's horse.

Needless to say, Sully is pissed when the pair ride down to join us. Frederick drops Virion off, then leaves to finish cleaning up the field. "You little prick!" Sully barks at the offending archer. "What was that about?"

"I only meant to finish the conflict posthaste!" he protests. "I had a clean shot, so naturally, I took it, rather than letting a lady such as yourself risk injury."

Oh, buddy. Could've worded that better.

"Oh, a 'lady,' am I?" she demands, grabbing him by the collar. I decide to come to his aid.

"Come on, Sully. Give the guy a break. You gotta admit, it was a pretty good shot," I say, hands raised, as I step over to Virion's side.

"Ugh," she says as she releases him. "Point. It was still interrupting an honorable duel."

Robin joins us. "No Sully, he was right. If this truly is war now, then there isn't much room for honor when lives are on the line. We must do what it takes to win, and to make sure that none of ours are lost out there."

Sully mumbles something unintelligible, but it seems she's conceded the point.

Before long, the others begin returning down the slopes. I'm pleasantly surprised by how many people greet me as they pass by; I get a clap on the back and a "Good to see you again" from Stahl, a full-on bro-hug from the Vaike, and at one point I'm pretty sure Kellam pats me on the shoulder. Miriel nods politely as she passes, inquiring after Kellam's location. Lon'qu doesn't say anything, but I figured that would be the case as 1) we've never met and 2) he's Lon'qu. Sumia lands her pegasus nearby and welcomes me back before unceremoniously falling from her mount and landing on her face. Ouch.

When Frederick returns, Maribelle is riding on the back of his horse. She dismounts, and I'm admittedly pretty happy to see her make a beeline for yours truly. She stops just a couple feet in front of me.

"Oh, Randall, thank the gods you're–oof!" She's interrupted by my pulling her into a tight hug. After a moment, she cautiously wraps her arms around me as well. I'm flattered that she doesn't push me away until a good five seconds later. "What on earth has gotten into you?"

"I wasn't sure you were okay!" I say. "I was worried, alright?" Only now do I turn a little red at my impulsiveness.

Fortunately, she smiles. "Well, I appreciate your concern. I'm fit as a fiddle."

Chrom is the last one to join us, with Donnel in tow. I'll have to remember to say hi later. "Is everyone alright?" he asks. Everybody answers more or less in the affirmative. "Good. Good. Everyone, be quick. We are getting out of here, as soon as possible."

We are joined by Emmeryn and Phila as well. It seems Phila and her squad made getting the Exalt out of harm's way a priority. Probably a good call. Chrom and Robin go off to join her, leaving me with the rest of the army to get all the supplies together.

Because of what appears to be healer privilege, when we get on the road, Maribelle and I are allowed to stay in the sick cart with Lissa. She doesn't look to be in pain; she's just sleeping off the fatigue of an extraordinary magical feat. What a trooper.

I don't take my eyes off Lissa as I remark to Maribelle, "It's good to be back."

Maribelle strokes Lissa's hair out of her face before replying. "Yes, I suppose it is, isn't it?"

* * *

 **A/N: I am a man of sin. I know this, and I have no excuse for dropping off the face of the earth. I do have explanations, though! School, and job, and then more school mostly. But I'm back, baby! Hope you enjoyed this one, as of course it's been a long time coming. As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**


	9. Ch 9: Fun with Blowing Ourselves Up

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 9: Fun with Blowing Ourselves Up**

" _And you say he mentioned me by name?"_

" _Yes, my lord. There's no mistaking it."_

" _What else does he know?"_

" _I have no way of knowing beyond what he said. He knows at least that you and I are in communication. He alluded to secret plans."_

" _Damnation. Well, from now on we must assume that your role is compromised with the Ylisseans. Gangrel may yet prove useful, but we will now be forced to take great care with how we use you. Begone for now; I must think on this."_

" _My lord, there remains the chance that none of the others know of our connection. If we can dispatch the healer quickly–"_

" _I will give it due consideration. Begone."_

 _He has never looked at me that way before. I force myself to maintain composure as I leave his chamber, but I don't get more than a few paces away from the door before a sob breaks out. Once one sneaks past, the floodgates are open, and I'm bawling on the floor of the hallway like a little girl. I let him down, twice in one day. First by evidently failing to keep our plans private, and second by failing to eliminate even one hapless healer. All because I was toying with him! I underestimated the Ylisseans. I won't do that again._

" _By the way, you're totally being brainwashed, and it's super funny."_

 _I can't get that out of my mind. It makes my head ache to think about it too much. Great. Now I'm crying and I have a headache._

" _My lady, are you alright?" A soldier has entered the hallway and stands cautiously in the doorway, one hand lingering on the frame. "I thought I heard something. Are you harmed?"_

 _I will admit, I lose my composure a tad. "RRRRRAAGH!" I spring to my feet and rip the sword from its scabbard at my side. It seems this is what the soldier feared, as he instantly makes an attempt to escape. Too late; I've got a clean shot. I throw the sword, and it hits the sweet spot at the back of his neck. He collapses instantly, gargling for a moment but fairly quickly passing. I cross over to him and wrench the sword out, wiping it on his tunic before sheathing it._

 _Ugh, now I have to find someone to clean this up. Can't be helped, I suppose. Can't have the soldiers knowing their lady… No matter. I've already forgotten the incident._

* * *

"So okay, you never did say. What does "let's make like trees" mean?"

I snort, having forgotten the exchange. "Oh, that. It's half of a bad joke. Let's make like trees, and _leaf_."

Ricken looks disappointed. "Oh. That's it?"

That only makes me laugh harder. "Yup. Sorry man." I've gotten into the habit of calling Ricken 'man' lately. Seems to make him sit a little taller.

Robin strides over, carrying a tray of water cups and what appears to be bear meat to the table. "I don't know what you expected, Ricken," she says, sitting on a nearby stool and doling out the waters.

The smell of meat has me salivating. "Yo Robin, is some of that bear for me?"

She shoots me a look. "No way! I picked bear meat so that I could have more to myself, since so few people seem to want it."

"Come oooon, Maribelle and I only had bread to eat for like a week and a half! Spot me some protein, brotein!" I protest, folding my hands earnestly.

She contemplates for a moment. "Fine, but only if you promise not to call me 'brotein' again." I nod vigorously, and she tosses me a chunk and I tear into it with gusto. Oh my God it's so goooood. "For that matter, please steer clear of calling me anything with 'bro' in it. It's bad enough with Chrom constantly confusing me for a man."

I snort, almost choking on bear. "I'm sorry, what?"

She leans forward, suddenly excited. "That moron had the gall to suggest I'm just 'one of the guys' and that he doesn't even worry about seeing me as a woman! I'm also pretty sure I overheard him talking to Frederick once, saying," and she puts on her best Chrom impression, "'I think Robin's off going over the plan for the march in his, er, _her_ tent. Gods.' What gives?"

"I see you as a woman!" Ricken pipes up helpfully.

I plant a hand on his shoulder. "Easy there, Casanova." He raises a brow, confused. Oops. Casual references. "Anyway, why's it matter to you that Chrom confuses you for a guy sometimes?"

She glares at me. "Why _wouldn't_ it matter?"

"I mean, do you want Chrom to, uh… see you as a woman?" I ask slyly.

She reddens, and her glare hardens. "No! Are you kidding? Don't say stuff like that!"

I've touched a nerve. Excellent. "My, my, that's quite the stern reply." Ricken giggles next to me.

"Only because that's the farthest thing from my mind right now!" she protests, looking pained.

"I suppose it's true," I go on, savoring the artificial melodrama. "After all, how could you fall for a man like that when there's the true paragon of masculine prowess right here?" I stroke my beard sensuously with one hand, and flex the bicep of the other arm.

Now it's her turn to giggle. "Psh, as if I'd be so bold. Everyone knows you're a taken man, after all."

My heart skips a beat. "Excuse me, what? Everyone except me, apparently."

"Oh, come on, you know what I'm talking about." She waves a hand.

"No, I really don't, actually. Please fill me in." I think I have an idea where this is going, though.

"You know, you and Maribelle," she replies.

"He and I what?"

The three of us yelp in unison as Maribelle walks over to us. In the dark of the evening and the light of the small fire Ricken and I had started, her approach was shrouded in darkness. Spooky.

"I thought I felt my ears grow hot, and that always means someone is talking about me," she says through a smirk as she takes a seat near us.

Robin speaks a little shakily. "Well, we were just saying how fortunate it is that we got the pair of you back safely. As foolhardy as Ricken's rescue attempt may have been, it did buy you the time we needed to get you out of harm's way, haha." If it weren't for the nervous-as-hell delivery, I'd give her top marks for that BS.

"Is that so?" Maribelle asks, not looking thoroughly convinced. "She is right, though, Ricken. You could have gotten yourself killed sneaking in like that!"

"That's a funny way of saying thank you," I deadpan.

She swats my shoulder. "Of course I'm grateful for the rescue, but," she falters a moment, "well, it's different with him!"

Ricken takes offense at this. "Why should it be different for me? I'm of age now, so there's no reason for me to hang back."

"How old are you, anyway?" I ask him.

"Sixteen." Oh wow, I might be on Maribelle's side a little bit now.

"And what's more," Maribelle interjects, "is that this was his first time in real combat. I know you handled yourself well in the battle, but we have to look out for one another even when the bloodshed is over."

I haven't really had to think about it as a healer, but it must be pretty brutal to have to cut people down yourself. I remember again the blood that showered onto Ricken from the diving wyvern yesterday, the way he just stood unflinchingly and took it. How hardened is this kid already?

"I'm fine," Ricken says. "I'm not going to shy away from my duty as a Shepherd, no matter how much you and Chrom and anyone else want to keep me at home like some kid."

"Ricken," Robin says in an attempt at a soothing tone, "no one is going to send you home. We just want to make sure that you're doing alright. We did the same for Donnel when we recruited him. The act of killing people, no matter how much they might deserve it, is hard on everyone that has to do it."

"Don't gang up on me like that!" Ricken says, scooting his stool back from the fire.

I raise my hands a bit, trying to calm the waters. "You're right. You don't have to talk about this stuff if you don't want to." I feel both Robin and Maribelle shooting me a look. "Tell ya what. Tomorrow, when we get to the next town, you stick with me, and we'll have a bros' day out. Check out the sights, check out the ladies, all that good stuff. Yeah?"

"'Check out the ladies,' eh?" a voice behind me asks. A massive hand claps down on my shoulder. "You can count the Vaike in!"

"You know, I've heard this town is famous for its cuisine," Stahl adds, stepping into the fire's light behind Vaike. "I wouldn't mind catching up with you a bit either, Randall."

Robin rolls her eyes. "Will there be anyone left to help us get food and supplies bought?"

"I'm sure Chrom and Frederick will be more than happy to spearhead that campaign. For my part, I think after spending so many days confined with giga drill hair over here," I jerk a thumb at Maribelle, "I'm definitely in need of a day off."

Maribelle opens her mouth to protest, but Robin gets there first. "I could see you and Ricken taking a day, but you two," she points a finger at each of them, "no dice. Now let's get to bed before it gets too late." Vaike and Stahl groan as they shuffle off, their fate sealed by the iron fist of our dauntless tactician.

I hang back with Robin to make sure the fire gets properly extinguished while the others depart for their tents. As we take turns kicking dirt onto the fire (gotta preserve water, after all), she finally speaks up.

"So I know there's a lot of stuff going on, but I feel like I should ask. Are you doing okay?"

"What, me? Yeah, I'm all aces. Why?"

"Don't play dumb. I've heard what happened at Maribelle's villa. It goes without saying that Maribelle is devastated, but she has Lissa and Chrom and the others to back her up as she recovers, and she's known them for years. You're still new to the country. Barring Maribelle herself, the people at her villa were the ones you spent the most time with. Not to reopen such fresh wounds, but if you need anything, that's what I'm here for."

By now the fire is pretty much put out, and the light of the stars is the only illumination around on this new moon night. It's interesting how many more stars you can see when light pollution ceases to be a problem like it is back home. Earth home, I guess. I don't find any constellations I know from my own sky here when I look at the night around me.

"I wouldn't worry too much about me," I say after a moment, still looking up and searching for familiar stars. "Like you said, Maribelle has a lot more to move past than I do. And then there's the new recruits, kids who have never seen battles and shit like that before. Compared to them, I'm good."

"Are you sure? I want to believe you, but if there's anything I've learned about you so far, it's that you've got a strong tendency to put your needs off to help with someone else's."

"What are you talking about?" I finally look at her. She's wearing a sort of half-smile.

"The day we met. Or, I guess, that night. When you let Lissa take your tent, even though Chrom told you not to."

I laugh a little. "What, that? It was literally nothing. Plus, I thought you were asleep for that."

"Well, it makes an impression. Lissa told me about it."

"Makes an impression, huh?"

"That's right. So even though I'm pretty sure you wouldn't tell me if there really is a problem, just know that, I guess, you always can. Alright?"

"I'll keep it in mind, I suppose."

She starts walking away, then pauses and turns back for a moment. "Oh, and thanks for doing this for Ricken. I know what you were doing there, even if Maribelle and even Ricken himself don't."

"What I was doing there? I just needed an excuse to hit up the town and meet some fine lasses. I'll tell 'em Ricken is my terminally ill brother, girls love sob stories."

She laughs a little too loudly for this time of night, then snorts trying to cover the sound. It's an exquisite sight, and I will never ever let her forget it. "Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow, Randall."

"Yeah. Good night."

* * *

True to my word, as soon as we enter town around mid-morning the following day, Ricken and I break off from the others and head off toward the more specialized stores in the center of town. There are a lot of antique stores and other neat stuff, but Ricken is drawn to an old magical oddities shop.

We look around in the store, finding little magic pages with novelty spells not popular enough to get bound into entire tomes. There's a spell that makes a strong orange fragrance when cast, but it dissipates after just a minute or so. There's a spell you can cast on any fluid to turn it bright red, but the more fluid you're trying to change the harder the spell is to cast.

My favorite, though, has to be the explosion spell page we find. Instead of the kind of explosion I was expecting, with fire and all that good stuff, this is a modified wind spell that throws whatever is in front of the caster backwards, but also throws the caster himself with equal force in the other direction. I can't help myself; I end up buying like six of them. We have to try it.

A few minutes later, we are standing in a small grassy field just outside of town. I hand Ricken one of the sheets, and he studies it for a minute to make sure he knows how to cast it. He stands facing me, maybe four feet away.

He grins at me. "Are you ready for this?"

"You bet your ass I am. Let 'er rip!" I reply, preemptively tensing up.

He crumples up the page in a fist, then holds it out in front of him. His fist starts glowing with a faint green light, shining through the small gaps between his fingers. Suddenly, without any sound or any warning, I am flying backwards at a concerning speed. The world blurs for a moment in a slurry of color, air, and roaring sound, and then I hit the ground and start rolling.

When I finally come to rest, my brain starts its old habit of cataloging damages. Fortunately, there doesn't seem to be much, just a vague ache all across my body. One look at the grinning Ricken, now a couple dozen feet away, convinces me it was worth it.

"Holy moly!" he shouts as we both walk back to where we were standing before. "That spell really packs a punch!"

"Who comes up with something like that?" I wonder aloud.

"I don't know, but I want to shake his hand," Ricken says.

"For sure."

We stand there for a moment, silent.

"Wanna do it again?" Ricken asks.

Grinning like a madman, I slap another sheet in his outstretched hand.

* * *

Deciding to save a few sheets for later, we eventually wander back into town, shopping around and trying some of the local cuisine here and there. For someone who only recently got off a carbs-only diet, it's like a dream come true to have so many choices.

"So alrighty, Ricken," I say between bites of skewered lamb, "let's hear about it."

"About what?" he asks around his own skewer.

"The story. The plan. What's your life gonna be like?"

"That's… pretty vague." He raises a brow.

"That's the point. No wrong answers." Experience has taught me that it's more about getting them talking than it is about asking whatever question you might have.

"Well, I definitely want to become one of the strongest mages there ever was. Someday, I'll become just as fierce a battlemage as the greats of the past, like Merric of Altea. I'll make everyone back home proud." He puts on a confident smile.

"Sounds pretty good to me. And how was your first real battle? I mean, if you're gonna be like Merric someday, you gotta start somewhere."

He pauses for a moment, the smile fading a little. "It was fine, I guess. Nothing special. We did what we needed to do, right?"

"Yeah. I have to say, though, it was pretty badass, the way you swooped in on Aversa and saved Maribelle and me like that. Mad respect, for sure."

"Maribelle seemed like she was mad at me, though." He looks down.

I scoff, waving a hand. "Nah, she's not mad at you. She was scared, is all. Your first time in combat, and you go, by yourself, behind enemy lines for a rescue mission of two healers that wouldn't even be able to help you fight your way out? That's pretty heavy for an inaugural battle, I'd say."

"When you put it like that… But you don't think she's mad?"

"Not a chance. She's just got a funny way of showing she cares, sometimes. I got plenty of that training with her for a month and a half."

The smile finally returns. "I guess you would know better than I do. Thanks, Randy."

"No prob, Bob."

"...It's Ricken."

* * *

Eventually, it's time to rejoin the others. By the grace of the gods, we are allowed to stay in the local inn overnight rather than staying in tents again. The catch is that we are cramming four to a room because there are too few rooms. I end up getting roomed with Virion, Lon'qu, and Vaike. This can only go well.

We enter the room and good lord, this is not a room designed to hold four grown men. It's barely designed to hold two, by the look of it. Two very modest beds, one table shared between the two of them, and a couple simple wooden chairs are the extent of the furnishings, probably because the room itself is too small to hold much more than that.

"How the hell are we gonna make this work?" Vaike asks.

"I've dealt with worse," Lon'qu growls.

A realization hits me. "We haven't actually spoken yet, Lon'qu. I'm Randall," I say, extending a hand to him.

He looks at my hand for a moment, then clasps it. That's a swordsman's grip, for sure. "Duly noted," he says.

"I take it you were recruited to the Shepherds back in Ferox?" I ask (would that count as a rhetorical question in my case?).

"Correct."

I have to say, talking to the man is pretty difficult. There's brevity, and then on the next level there's Lon'qu, it seems. "Well, I'm glad to have you. I've heard a thing or two about your skill with that," I say, nodding toward the Killing Edge sheathed at his side even now.

"You heard correctly."

I decide that maybe I'll get to know him a little better later on. "So how are we going to make two beds work for four people?" I ask the group. My question is barely finished before Lon'qu has crossed to the corner and has staked his claim on one of the wooden chairs. He sits back and folds his arms.

Vaike laughs. "To each his own, I guess. Anyway, I don't know what you two will do, but… I got dibs!" he shouts, leaping across the room and landing, hard, on the far bed.

Virion and I exchange a look. Neither of us are willing to give up on this chance to have a bed, that much is certain. "Alright, but there will be absolutely no spooning, agreed?"

"But of course," Virion replies. "I wouldn't dare."

* * *

Despite the waking Virion's promise, the sleeping Virion seems to have some trouble following through. It seems like every few minutes I'm having to shoo him away back to his side of the bed as a hand wanders over to try and stroke my hair or something. Finally, I give up on getting to sleep with this clown, so I get up and leave the room as quietly as I can.

I pass through the inn's living room and out onto the street outside. Honestly, I'm a little relieved to find that no one else is up and about at this time. I'm only just now realizing this, but it's been almost two full weeks since I was in any given location alone. I seize this wonderful opportunity to think about absolutely nothing at all, taking a seat against the front wall of the inn and letting my mind go totally blank.

I don't know how long I sit there before falling asleep.

* * *

"Randy? What are you doing out here?"

Uuungh, just let me sleep.

"Randyyyy? Come ooooon."

Please, no.

"Poke, poke, poke," Lissa says, punctuating each word with a little jab in the forehead.

"Why must you do this?" I mumble, still not opening my eyes.

"So you _are_ awake! It's rude to ignore someone when they're talking to you, you know."

I open one eye, trying to adjust to the morning light slowly. "It's also considered rude to wake someone up by poking them in the forehead."

"Not if we have to get up anyway. Chrom wants us to get a move on. We need to make it back to Ylisstol as quick as we can." She wags a finger at me. "So let's get a move on!"

I groan perhaps a bit overdramatically. As I stagger to my feet, my spine pops a few times and reminds me that you're not supposed to sleep on the ground, leaning against a wall. "Jesu Christo, I could've picked a better position."

While I try to stretch out my poor limbs, Lissa says, "I could give you a massage later, if you like."

Oh no. No, I've read your support conversations with Robin, thank you very much. I know how this story ends. "I'll keep that in mind," is what I actually say.

The trip back to Ylisstol isn't really that special. Mostly it consists of catching up with some of the others as we go. I get a sense of some of the latest gossip ("Did you know Miriel and Kellam are basically spending all their time together now?"), and get acquainted with the newest recruit Donnel ("I think I'm gonna call you the Don." "Uh, alrighty then. Why?").

However, the whole party has this air of unease about them. War in its most intense form looms dangerously on the horizon, and no one in our group is old enough to have experienced the previous one on the battlefield. I figure most of them were really little kids when the last war was going on, so nobody really knows what to expect.

It's also really weird to be seeing all those Risen portals again. There weren't any in sight around Maribelle's villa, so I had kind of forgotten about them for a while. Here, though, they're pretty hard to miss.

Especially when one of them opens up and starts spitting out Risen at an alarming rate.

"To arms! Now!" Chrom shouts from the front of the caravan, and suddenly everyone is in a flurry of motion, preparing their weapons for battle.

My first Risen mission. Oh boy.

* * *

 **A/N: The second chapter in the space of a week. How about that, eh? But actually, I do want to know what you guys think of this chapter in particular. Do you like the more casual, character-relationship-building chapters, even if the plot doesn't move forward much, or is it better to just get on with it? Additionally, I might be interested in a chapter pre-reader, so if that sounds interesting feel free to PM me about that. As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**

 **Also, at the time of writing this, Birth and Re-Death has a follower base of over 140 and 75 favorites. I cannot tell you guys enough how happy it makes me that so many are enjoying my silly, doofy story. Thanks a ton 3**


	10. Ch 10: Heroically Swinging for the Nuts

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 10: Heroically Swinging for the Nuts**

It's pretty weird being back with the Shepherds on the battlefield. Already, my life at Maribelle's feels like it was a different life, even though it was only a few weeks ago. I slip seamlessly into the groove of combat with the others, as if I had known them for years (and I suppose, in a sense, I have). It's another one of those trippy moments that have been happening lately where I'm more comfortable than I have any real right to be.

Robin has the good sense to pair everyone off (read: exploit the pair-up mechanic) before the battle, so I'm hitting the field with Chrom to make sure he doesn't get bloodied up too badly. However, as expected, my man is a little bit overleveled for this stage, so he's pretty much kicking ass.

That is, until he overswings into one of the Risen and ends up caught between two more of them, a lance soldier and a fighter. Now he's in trouble; while he turns toward the soldier to fend off the weapon disadvantage, he's got no choice but to turn his back to the axe-wielder.

Before the fighter can bring his swing down, though, I rush between them and raise my staff, holding it sideways to block the attack. Mercifully, the staff takes the blow like a champ and knocks the Risen off balance. Not one to waste an opportunity, I turn the staff in my hands and hit the fighter once, twice, and on the third blow to his head he falls to the ground.

The bottom of a staff isn't exactly sharp; it's more like a dull point you might see on a fence post or something. Pointier than a sphere, rounder than a spear, you could say.

Anyway, stabbing someone with it is pretty difficult, but after a few vigorous attempts (and some pretty nasty squelching noises), I finally manage to drive it into the fighter's chest. After a moment, the Risen starts dissolving, which makes pulling the staff out much easier than putting it in. Also, it's weirdly comforting not having blood just go everywhere after killing it. This is the rated T game I signed up for!

I turn around and find Chrom gaping at me a little. After a second, he shakes his head, snapping out of it. "Let's go!" he says, and we press on.

I'm impressed by Robin's talent for management on the fly. When fighting Risen, their strength is phenomenal, but if you can outmaneuver them, they don't pose a threat. Robin seems to have that down to a science, directing small groups to outflank and divide the Risen horde.

"Stahl! Frederick! Shoot the gap!" Robin commands, and the cavaliers ride through a large mass of enemies, splitting them in half and then in fourths so that Virion and the mages can work on one small group at a time from a safe distance. Overall, once Robin has a chance to get organized, it seems like she has a firm handle on the situation. Before long, the rest of the Risen have been put down and the portal closes up.

Chrom catches up with me as we walk back to the Shepherds caravan. "Good gods, Randall. I don't think I've seen a healing staff used quite like that before. That was something."

I shrug. "I mean, it's made of metal and seems like it can take a hit. Why not use every resource we have in battle, right?"

He smiles. "I like that. You sound a little like our fair tactician, I'd say."

After the fight, everyone takes a little break to regroup. Lissa, Maribelle, and I make sure everyone's got their injuries healed up. Aside from Donny, who remains underleveled for the time being, and Vaike, who seems to enjoy being a punching bag, it seems everyone made it out alright. I'll admit, it's an extreme relief to be able to relax a little bit, not having to worry about every person in the group all the time. As I finish closing some flesh wounds on Donny, I notice my blood-covered hands are trembling. I excuse myself to take a break for a little while. Lissa takes over without missing a beat and I head outside and sit at the base of a shady tree.

I take a minute to just breathe. In. Out. That's the way. Everyone's safe. Everything's fine. Just breathe a little. After a minute or two, I'm feeling okay again.

I think what happened to Jackson and the others might have shaken me a little more than I thought at first.

* * *

Ylisstol is one pretty city. I haven't been here in a while, but if anything it just got shinier. Emmeryn really runs a tight ship around here, considering the fear the rest of the country is going through with Plegians knocking at the door. For now, the city remains pretty lively, and why not? No one but the Shepherds know that we are at war yet. The citizens crowd along the sides of the streets as Emmeryn waves daintily from her position near the front of the pack. We make our way toward the city's center, and at the Exalted palace Emmeryn and her entourage break off to immediately discuss what to do next while we head back to the barracks.

For the most part, things kind of calm down for a little while. Even though the threat of war looms on the horizon, we can't do much about it, so Chrom tells us we should plan to train and regroup.

"Even so," he says, "don't let your guard down, even here at home. Plegia has been pushing for war for a long time now, and there's no real way of knowing how many of their own could already be lurking around." So that's comforting. Regardless, he dismisses us so that he can hurry off to meet with Emmeryn and the others.

For my part, I think I am in need of a proper detox. I am beyond relieved to get to see my old room in the barracks again, as it means a real, actual bed that I don't have to share with any lecherous archers. I flop onto the bed gratefully, feeling a little like I did the first time I ever lay here as the built-up stress, both physical and mental, starts to seep out. I accidentally fall asleep, even though it's early afternoon.

* * *

Just as quickly, I wake up to a room doused in shadow. Looks like I slept until the middle of the night. I inwardly thank everyone for just letting me sleep for a while. I sit up slowly, stretching and feeling like myself for the first time in a while.

"Good evening, Randall."

"GAH!"

Oh, it's Lucina again, sitting politely in my chair on the opposite side of the room. Looks like my room has once again been invaded via the window. God damnit Lucina, you can't keep doing that.

"God damnit Lucina, you can't keep doing that," I say.

She at least has the courtesy to look a little ashamed behind her mask. "I apologize for entering uninvited once again," she says quietly, removing the mask and setting it on the arm of the chair.

"I think the term you're looking for is 'breaking in', actually," I say, placing a hand on my chest to make sure my heart is calming down.

"Er, yes. Again, my apologies."

I turn to face her, legs hanging off the bed. "So, what's the story?" I gasp, sudden realization hitting me. "It's not tonight, is it?"

"No, not tonight," she replies, raising a hand to calm me back down. "It won't be for a few days yet. You really do know what's going to happen, don't you?" she asks thoughtfully.

I sigh in relief. "Yeah, to an extent, I do. So what are you doing here?" I ask.

She stands, crossing over to me and sitting on the floor next to the bed. "I want to know. Is my intervention going to help? Can Exalt Emmeryn be saved?"

Oh, shit. What do I tell her? "Well, in this situation she can be saved. With your foreknowledge and Panne's assistance, we should probably be able to turn the tide."

"So Panne really will come, then… What do you mean by 'in this situation'?"

"To be honest, it will depend." On whether the SpotPass chapters are canon or not. "On a lot of things. To say I know what will happen is probably inaccurate. I know what _could_ happen, and even then it's possible I'm totally wrong."

"What does that mean? You, er, future you, made it seem like you would have a firm grasp on what would happen." Ugh, that guy again. Seems like he's causing as much trouble as he's alleviating for me.

"Nothing is ever as easy as it might seem," I say. "I've got a pretty good idea of how the larger general things will go, but when it comes to the little stuff there's room for a lot of variables."

"I… see. I suppose that clears things up a little bit," she says slowly. I can tell she's just being polite, though. She looks pretty confused.

"Look, there will be some times when I'll know pretty much exactly what will happen, and then there will be times when I'm totally clueless. I'll usually know when I get there. I'll try to keep you in the loop when I can, if it helps."

She smiles. "I appreciate it." She relaxes a little, sitting back and leaning on her hands splayed behind her.

"So," I say, "you come from the future. A future that most likely won't come to pass, but no doubt an enlightening one. You make it seem like I was still alive when you left."

"That's right. You, um, the other Randall, that is, offered to keep Grima at bay while the rest of us made our way to safety to perform the ritual to open the portals to the past. I… can't imagine you made it." She looks down.

I wonder how that works. Maybe he's been living the same day for quite a while, or maybe he lost that power somehow when the portals opened, or something. It's difficult to speculate. I hope that whatever happened, he didn't suffer too much.

"That's sure something. I'm glad I was at least a good enough guy to give you kids time to get outta Dodge," I say, attempting a reassuring smile.

"It wasn't inconsistent with your usual way of doing things."

"Huh?"

"You were gentle, and kind, despite all that you had lost. All the friends, and family, that you couldn't save from Grima's wrath. I could tell, even as a little girl, that you blamed yourself for their loss." And rightly so, I imagine, but I don't say that part aloud. "It made us sad to see how much their loss grieved you, but you showed us that life is good and that the lives our parents lived were worth remembering. Most of what we knew about our parents we learned from the stories you would tell us. I… can't tell you how much I…" Oh wow, I wasn't expecting Lucina to start crying here. I sit there a little awkwardly, not sure if I should move to give her a hug or what. Before I make a decision one way or the other, she speaks again. "I'm sorry. It's just that our parents were taken from us when we were so young, and you were like a father to so many of us..."

That's unexpected. I guess it makes sense though. I wonder how many of the kids will be different than I remember as a result of living with me. For that matter, I wonder…

"Hey Lucina, did I have any kids of my own?" I ask.

She looks puzzled. "That seems like the sort of thing you would already know."

"You'd be surprised. Like I said, there are huge gaps in my knowledge."

She gives a teary shrug. "Well, of course you did." She takes a second to compose herself, wiping her tears off with the backs of her hands and taking a few deep breaths. "First, there's your daughter F–"

 _Knock knock_. I don't have a clock, but I'm pretty sure this is a weird time for someone to come knocking. For her part, Lucina yelps (I would later reflect on how cute the sound was) and springs over to the chair, slapping her mask back on her face. In one fluid motion, she crosses to the open window and springs outside.

Oh no you don't, I'm gonna see how you do that shit this time. I jump off my bed and sprint to the window, but God damnit it's too dark to see where she went. That's gonna drive me nuts.

 _Knock knock_. Alright, fine, let's see who it is. I cross to the door and put on my best tired face.

Oh. Hello Virion. That's not who I was expecting.

"Ah, excellent; I thought I had heard some talking in here, so I reasoned you must be awake," he says. He peers inside around my shoulder. "Is there not… anyone else here?"

I lean against the doorframe. "Nope. Just… just me, talking to myself. I got into that habit when I was imprisoned."

"Was Lady Maribelle not with you when you were held by the Plegians? I believe you reported a few days ago that the pair of you were kept in a singular underground cell. Why would you need to talk to yourself?"

"...She slept a lot."

He looks in my eyes for a moment, and I'm reminded of how piercing his gaze is. It's kinda scary, if I'm being honest. "Regardless, you're awake. I was wondering if I might be so bold as to request a favor from you."

"What could you possibly need this late at night?"

He shifts around a little. "Well, to be perfectly honest, it's not the sort of thing I want to be public knowledge. I may have been involved in some, shall we say, unsavory business with a nobleman from one of the estates surrounding Ylisstol, and on my end the money is coming up just a bit short."

"What kind of unsavory business, exactly?" I raise a brow.

He waves a hand. "Unimportant. The part that concerns you is that tonight, I am meant to meet with an emissary from the lord of said estate to pay my dues to the gentleman."

"Money that I'm assuming you don't have?"

He points a finger at me. "Precisely. So when I meet with the emissary, I must convince him to allow me some more time to obtain the funds necessary to repay his master."

"Why bother going to meet with him at all if you're coming up empty-handed?" I ask.

He looks off to the side. "Well, truth be told, he knows that I am staying here with the Shepherds. If I don't go to meet with him now, then he will no doubt have his men track me down here. And as much as I have no doubt Lord Chrom has the best of intentions, I am unsure I've ingratiated myself adequately to request formal assistance from the Shepherds as a whole."

"Not to mention you're probably in the wrong on this deal anyway," I add.

"Not… wholly untrue, Randall."

I step back into my room to pull on my robes. "So what, you want me to come along and look tough or something?"

He takes a couple steps into the room himself. "Not as such. I have another ally set aside for the more battle-ready side of things. I would prefer to have you waiting in the wings with that healing staff of yours in case things should, ehem, go awry."

"That's comforting," I say, grabbing my staff. Why the hell am I going along with this?

We head downstairs to the common area of the barracks, where Robin is waiting. I guess she must be the muscle he's recruited.

"Did he just get you because you were already awake?" she asks as we cross to where she's sitting.

"Yeah, my sleep schedule got a little out of whack, so I just woke up a little bit ago," I reply.

She stands up and yawns, stretching a little. "Good, at least you'll be fresh. I tried to sleep before, but I've been off and on all night. The days ahead are going to be very busy, and very stressful." Poor Robin. She really does look pretty worn-out. Instead of her usual twintails, her hair is pulled back into one untidy ponytail, and her eyes have dark bags beneath them.

Virion stands between us. "Thank you both very much for volunteering your assistance on such short notice. We will be heading just outside the city walls to meet with the emissary."

"I've got 500 gold that says he repos your kidney in an ice bath," I say.

Robin laughs. I may have misjudged her sense of humor. "I wouldn't be surprised either. The way you talk about it, Virion, it sounds like you might deserve what's coming to you."

He scowls at us. "Well, it's your jobs tonight to make sure that all of me, including my kidneys, makes it back here intact."

"Speaking of, will we be getting paid for this little expedition?" I ask.

"I will owe the pair of you a very large favor. Those in contact with Virion's personal network know very well how useful a favor from yours truly can be," he replies, running a hand confidently through his hair.

"So, I'm hearing 'no.' Are you also hearing 'no,' Robin?"

She smirks. "That's what I'm hearing."

Virion throws his hands up, then lets them clap against his sides. "Are the pair of you going to assist or not?"

"Sure, sure. Just giving you some shit," I say.

"Let's just go," Virion sighs.

* * *

This looks like a place where people who don't have the money on time go to get shanked. We are crouching behind a bush in sight of a very run-down, shabby-looking abandoned barn on the outskirts of one of the small towns surrounding the capital, and no one seems to be around at this ungodly hour. But for the light that Robin's clever use of a Fire tome is providing, there are no lights anywhere either.

"So we have to go inside there?" I whisper, not wanting to disturb the relative quiet.

"Unfortunately, not quite. I was instructed to meet him alone, so the pair of you will need to wait outside and be ready if I get into any unforeseen trouble," Virion replies, looking more than a little nervous now that we're here.

"Yeah, that can't go wrong," I say.

"Sounds like it's the only option," Robin says, shrugging. I shrug in turn and we both take a seat on the ground.

Virion turns around briefly after he gets to his feet. "If you hear trouble, please waste no time, Robin," he says shakily. She nods, and he heads over to the barn door. When he opens it, the light from a lantern inside shines through the open doorway, so it seems his contact is already here. The door is shut behind him.

"What do you figure are the chances he actually talks his way out of this?" I ask Robin.

"It's a little difficult to say," she replies. "On one hand, based on his flirting ability, or more accurately I'd say his lack thereof, he doesn't exactly inspire confidence. On the other, he managed to seamlessly slide into the ranks of the Shepherds and is clearly a man who knows how to create a network of powerful connections. Maybe he can manage something."

"Though you have to admit, getting into the Shepherds isn't exactly difficult," I say. "You and I managed it the same day that Virion did, and you're an amnesiac with what appears to be mild OCD and I'm a novice healer without a day's experience prior to joining up. Compared with Virion's undeniable skill with a bow, I'd say we were the lucky recruits that day."

"When you put it like that…" Robin says, rubbing the back of her head. "Wait, what's OCD?"

I consider explaining what I actually know about OCD (I took a psych class once), but then I remember that this universe has yet to get down the basics of how gravity works. "Basically, you're the queen of the micromanagers. You have to know where everyone is and what they're doing basically all the time."

She shrugs. "Fair. Anyway, we will just have to wait and see."

A few minutes pass in relative quiet. Robin quietly studies her Elthunder tome as we sit around waiting. I guess I hadn't thought about how magic tomes are literally books that can be read.

"Interesting reading?" I ask.

She looks up. "No, not really. It's mostly runes designed to keep the magic bound to the page, but I'm wondering if there's a way to preserve the pages even after their magic is expended. It would be much easier to reuse a tome if the runes on the pages were kept intact rather than being destroyed with every use."

Looks like someone's looking to get ahold of the Armsthrift skill. "Sounds like a good idea. Are you hoping you'll be able to manage that by studying the pages really closely?"

"It's a place to start," she sighs.

At that moment, our conversation is interrupted by an unmistakably feminine shriek from inside the barn. That'll be Virion. Seems negotiations didn't go his way.

"Trouble! I'm heading in. You hang back here a minute," Robin commands, jumping to her feet and emerging from behind the bush to rush to the barn. Before I can warn her to be careful (or say anything else, for that matter), I hear a few _thunks_ , and Robin hits the ground, newly perforated by arrows along her right side.

"God damnit!" I shout as I get to my feet, not knowing where to go. I have to get to Robin, but out in the open there I will be a sitting duck. An arrow whizzes past me, so close I can feel the air disturbance near my ear. I narrowly manage not to wet myself.

"R-Randall!" Robin cries on the ground. "Where are they? Where are they?" I guess that answers the question of whether she's alive.

"Off to the right!" I call back. In the faint starlight, I can make out a few shapes moving behind a low stone retaining wall a few dozen feet away.

"How many?" Robin asks frantically.

"I can't get close!" I yell back, ducking to avoid another arrow. Still, considering it's quickly looking like this is a dead run anyway, I figure I should try to learn what I can for next time.

I step out from behind the bush and attempt something akin to a serpentine running pattern while making for the retaining wall.

"What are you doing?" Robin sputters. It sounds like she's fading pretty quickly; these guys must be pretty good shots. Speaking of, a few more narrow misses whoosh past me. I'm gonna run out of luck here in a second.

Aaaand there it is. One arrow catches me in the stomach, making me gasp in pain as my innards make way for their new neighbor. Still, adrenaline keeps me moving forward, even as two more arrows catch me, one in the right shoulder and one glancing shot that slices the outside of my thigh.

Painful though the wounds are, I manage to make it all the way to the waist-high retaining wall. Of course, now that I'm here I need to actually do something about these guys. One wounded healer on three archers is not a favorable matchup. What can I use, what can I use…?

Ah, there's a thought.

I raise my staff and hold the orb end toward the archers, then let some magic loose, squeezing my eyes shut. As I hoped, the bright white light flashing from the staff throws the archers off-balance. A couple of them yell in pain; I imagine they've been in the dark all evening until now. Once they're disoriented, I hop over the wall and waste no time swinging my staff into one of their heads, knocking him down.

Holy crap this might actually work out.

I whirl around and strike another archer squarely in the jaw. The cracking noise that comes from that hit is not pleasant, to say the least. The last one has an arrow nocked, but a timely flash of light from my staff coupled with a ducking maneuver makes him lose his target, so the arrow only nicks my ear as it flies past.

Adrenaline revitalized by the near-headshot I just experienced, I swing the lower end of the staff upwards and catch him in the crotch with the psuedo-pointed base. Wheezing, he drops to the ground.

The first guy is already recovering. Before he can get back to his feet, I swing for the side of his head once again. Same story for the second guy. However, as I turn to make sure Archer #3 stays down, I feel another arrow hit me, this time in the chest. Ow.

Yet when I look down, the third guy is still writhing on the ground. Is there a fourth–

 _Thunk_. Another arrow to the chest. I fall to a knee. I can see the shaft of the arrow sticking upwards out of the wound. That means–

 _Thunk_. A guy on the roof. My vision is fading fast, but I can still just barely make out his silhouette against the starlit sky behind him.

Don't forget for next time. There's a guy on the roof. God damnit.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey guys! Been longer than I intended to take for this chapter, but for the first time I've actually been mapping out where I'm going with this hot mess! Woo! Thanks for your patience.**

 **Additionally, I thought it's about time I address some of the many comments I've gotten so far. Even though I love hearing from you guys, I am terrible at actually replying to comments directly. I thought it might be fun to address some of them down here, but if that sounds lame to you, feel free to stop reading here.**

 **…**

 **Are they gone? Good. Alright, so first I'd seriously like to thank all those who have been complimentary about the quality of my work. As if my ego needed any more inflating, right? Really though, it means so much to get support from you guys. In particular, I'd like to thank a reader by the name of Syntaxis; during the story's infancy, your well-developed, encouraging reviews were especially appreciated, and I regret not saying so until literally months later. Thx bby**

 **And now to address some of the questions I get asked!**

 **Q: Is this story based on Re:Zero?  
** **A: Kinda! Also Dark Souls, Groundhog Day, and plenty of other looper stories. I really dig the idea of having a second, self-aware chance to get something right.**

 **Q: Will Randall suffer mental breakdowns as a result of the constant do-overs?  
** **A: Yeah, probably. Wouldn't you?**

 **Q: Is Randall ever going to get a Bolt Axe?  
** **A: Maybe? I'm leaning towards no. You'll see why.**

 **Q: Why didn't Randall try to convert Aversa since he knows she's brainwashed by Validar?  
** **A: He was pissed. No matter how much it might not be their 'fault' per se, if you saw someone holding the freshly removed head of one of your friends, I imagine converting them to the light wouldn't be high on your list of priorities either.**

 **Q: Will Randall ever have a pet? (Baby dragons were specified)  
** **A: I have no plans for such a thing. Not a solid no, but a proooobably no. Probably.**

 **Q: Maribelle?  
** **A: You'll see.**

 **Seriously, thank you guys so much for joining me on this adventure. I hope you have even half as much fun reading this as I do writing it. As always, comments and critiques are welcome. From now on I may go so far as to address some direct questions in the notes, but no firm promises (especially if you guys didn't like it). See you next time!**


	11. Ch 11: An Abundance of Neck Injuries

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 11: An Abundance of Neck Injuries**

I open my eyes. "Son of a bitch."

"Good evening, Randall?" Lucina seems a bit puzzled at my irritated swear.

"Oh, hey Luci," I grumble. I stretch my arms and legs a little, reminding myself what they feel like when they aren't filled with metal and wood and pain.

"Luci…" she says, pulling off her mask and setting it beside her.

"What? Not a fan?" I ask, sitting up properly and turning to face her.

"No, just the opposite, really. In the future, you used to call me that all the time," she says, not quite looking at me.

This must be a really big deal for her, I realize. To her, it's only been a couple months since she left that world behind, after all. She had to give up on me, in a way. I wonder if she feels guilty about that. I can't imagine she doesn't. "Is that alright?" I ask.

She considers for a moment. "Yes. It's a little piece of the world I left behind. I don't think future you would mind if you stole his nickname for me."

I figure I may as well let her get her worries off her chest. "So, what drives a woman to break into my bedroom this late at night?"

She looks worried, trying to choose her words carefully. "Do you...know about–?"

"Oh, yeah. Our fair Exalt is gonna have a surprise visit, right?"

She nods. "So you do know what will happen, then…"

"Sometimes. Don't worry, Emmeryn will make it out just fine," I say, standing and placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"She will?" Lucina asks, looking at me with almost childlike trust in her eyes. She really does see me as a father figure, huh? I hope I don't come between her and Chrom because of that.

"You and I will make sure of it. Okay?"

She closes her eyes, a small smile on her face. I feel some of the tension leave her shoulder. "Of course we will. Thank you, Randall."

I can only put off the more pressing worry on my mind for so long, though. I withdraw my hand. "Now, if you're feeling better, I'd like to focus on not getting killed tonight."

Her eyes snap back open. "What? Why would you be in danger tonight?"

"Because in a couple minutes, Virion is going to knock on that door and request my help with something that could very well get us, and Robin, killed."

"Robin…" Lucina says, then shakes her head. "I had no idea such a thing ever happened."

"Shouldn't be a huge deal, but if I get careless it's easy to get pulled in over my head," I say, walking over to my small desk and pulling out a small sketchbook. I draw a few shapes that loosely mirror the barn and the surrounding area. "Now when we get there, there will probably be enemies here, here, here, and here, as well as at least one inside the building," I say, marking each spot with an X. "If we want to guarantee Virion's safety as well as ours, Robin and I will need to dispatch these guys," I indicate the guys on the ground, "without tipping off Mr. Roof Man. We will also have to be quick about it, because Virion will almost certainly be attacked inside the building when his negotiations fail."

"So you clear the outside, including somehow getting onto the roof, then break in and rescue Virion, all while remaining undetected?" Lucina asks. "You think you can pull that off by yourselves?"

I shrug. "I guess we'll find out."

"Why not recruit more help from the Shepherds rather than doing it alone?" she asks.

"I assume because Virion is involved in some illegal business. I'd bet he trusts Robin because he knows Robin sees the value in his contribution to the group and doesn't seem to have as many moral scruples as your old man, and I'd wager he can tell there's more to me than I've told the Shepherds, so he assumes he's got some leverage over me. Apart from Robin and me, though, I imagine he doesn't trust many of us."

"I never knew he was so shrewd," Lucina says. "The stories you would tell of him gave a different impression." She pauses. "Apologies. I mean the future you."

"I getcha. Anyway, I'm hoping that I'll be able to–"

 _Knock knock_.

We both jump a little at the sudden noise. "That'll be him. Scoot!" I say, but she's already moving and halfway to the window. Crap. "Wait! I wanna see how you do the disappearing thing!" She's already gone. "Nooo!"

I stalk over to the door before he can knock again and fling it open. "Yes, Virion?"

"Ah, excellent; I thought I had heard some talking in here, so I reasoned you must be awake," he says. He peers inside around my shoulder. "Is there not… anyone else here?"

"Nope," I say simply.

"But… were you talking to yourself, then?"

I don't want to have this conversation again. "Look, what do you need?"

He hesitates for a moment, giving me a suspicious look, but eventually he goes through and explains his predicament again. After agreeing to help, I pull on my robes, grab my staff, and head downstairs with Virion.

Robin is, as before, sitting in a chair, looking particularly annoyed. "Hullo Randall," she yawns. "Looks like you got dragged in as well."

"Looks like it," I shrug. "You look like you slept well."

She narrows her eyes at me. "Well, not all of us can sleep the whole afternoon away. I had to spend the day trying to form a plan of action with two of the _least_ helpful–" She cuts herself off. "No matter. The point is, this isn't how I planned to spend my evening." Huh. Wonder what that was about. Trouble with the Exalted siblings?

"Regardless," Virion interrupts, "I thank you for extending a helping hand in my time of need. I will feel a great deal better about meeting this gentleman knowing the pair of you will be backing me up."

"How much gold are you supposed to have for this guy, anyway?" I ask.

Virion looks away conspicuously. "Well, let's just say it's not the sort of sum a man can come up with on such short notice."

Robin chimes in. "Short notice? How long ago were you notified of the deadline?"

"I received a message from the man via carrier pigeon yesterday evening while we were still on the road here," he replies.

Robin shoots me a look. I'm thinking the same thing, I can tell. "Yeah, they're definitely planning on just killing you," I say. She nods grimly, looking back to Virion.

"What? Why on earth would they do that?" Virion asks, eyes flitting between the pair of us. "If they haven't received their money back from me when I die, then their investment is for naught, right?"

"If they have a larger plan in the works, it may be the case that the lord in question is looking to tie up any loose ends that may complicate matters further down the line. What are the chances that you are the only illicit contact he has?" Robin says. Virion says nothing. "Exactly. It might just mean that there is a larger plan at work that you are merely a part of."

My breath catches. Could this lord be connected with the group that plans to assassinate Emmeryn? Someone must have been housing all the Plegian attackers, after all. Maybe Virion had information on them and was being paid off, but now the lord is showing a little muscle to try and make some of that money back before offing the unnecessary variables.

"Yeah, you're definitely gonna get the axe if we don't step in," I say.

"Then the pair of you need to help me get out of this situation alive!" Virion cries, then remembering where we are, lowers his voice. "I don't intend to be killed tonight."

"And you won't be, if you follow my lead," Robin says. "Get your bow, Virion."

"Why?"

"You're not going to this meeting."

* * *

We are getting pretty close to the meeting place. Robin has elected not to light our approach with a tome this time, a choice which I greatly approve of, so we walk in darkness interrupted only by the crescent moon and stars.

"We need to make a plan to clear the whole area," Robin says. "We have to assume hostility from anyone we run into that's bearing arms."

I nod. "How many do you figure we'll have to deal with?" I don't want her thinking I know too much.

"For a setting like this, especially in the middle of the night, they'll want to keep a lid on things. I imagine a small, light force of enemies. No more than half a dozen, probably more like four or five," she says. Wow, that's actually really sharp. I'm surprised she's so much more prepared than last time after only receiving the information that Virion was summoned here probably too recently for the deal to be legit. She's effective, that's for sure. She also doesn't look so tired now, and she walks with a confident, upright stride.

"You anticipate an ambush, then?" Virion asks, stringing his bow as we walk.

"Of course. They'll want to get the drop on you as quickly as they can, but we're going to get the drop on them first," she replies. "I figure they will be watching from a vantage point that allows them to watch the barn's entrance at all times without drawing suspicion." She squints at the meeting site. "Someplace like that retaining wall on the far side of the entrance. You can't see behind it when you're approaching from Ylisstol, so it's the most likely place for enemies to be hiding."

I can't help putting in my own two cents. "Don't rule out that there may be someone on the roof itself. A good vantage point to survey both the enemy and keep an eye on their own guys behind the wall. You know, assuming there are guys behind the wall."

I can feel Robin's eyes on me. "...That's a good thought, too. Pretty perceptive, Randall. Though I imagine roof access is limited to the inside of the building in that case," Robin says.

I hope she doesn't think I'm in on it or something. I didn't like that look just now.

"Virion, I want you to keep an eye out for any sign of movement on the roof. If you see someone up there, take them down," Robin commands. "You should wait behind that bush there. Randall and I will make our way around the backside of the building and make sure the rest of the area is clear."

He nods and goes off to get into position. Robin and I slowly slink around the back of the barn. She pauses for a moment, then turns to face me.

She mouths silently, but I can still make it out. _Do you have a weapon?_

I hold up my staff and pantomime a swing. She pinches the bridge of her nose, then slowly slides a sword out from its sheath and presses it into my hands. _Be ready_ , she mouths.

I try not to let the fact that I'm super pumped to have a sword distract me from the fact that I have no idea how to wield one. I give Robin a probably-too-enthusiastic thumbs-up. She rolls her eyes and turns back around.

She throws her hood up to cover her bright-ass hair and peeks around the corner for a moment, then comes back. She holds up three fingers. Looks like they're still there. Or, you know, there again? Whatever. Robin draws a second sword (I've noticed she carries a lot of weapons on her person, by the way) and gestures toward a small shrub on the far side of the wall. Looks like she's hoping to catch them from behind.

Keeping low and moving quickly, we sneak over to the shrub without raising any alarms. Robin gestures with her hands again, presumably informing me that she plans to take out the two on the left while I dispatch the one on the right. I nod; works for me.

We step out on opposite sides of the shrub and creep up to the enemies, all of whom are facing toward the barn. Robin swiftly brings her blade up and around the left guy's throat and slits it, and the sound of gargling fills the still night. For my part, I panic as the other two start moving and thrust the blade forward blindly. I do manage to stab the guy in the back successfully, but the sword gets stuck there.

Meanwhile, the third guy has noticed my less than stealthy display and cries out in alarm. A fraction of a second later, an arrow lands in the ground beside me. Looks like the roof guy is still alive. Thanks Virion.

Giving up on the sword altogether, I grab the guy himself from behind while he's dicking around with his bow and pull him in front of me just in time for the poor bastard to take an arrow on my behalf. The guy keeps fighting to shake loose, though, so I grab a fistful of hair on the back of his head and force his head down, smashing his nose into the retaining wall. Seems like a winning strategy, so I do it again. And then, because he's still moving, I give it another one.

I'm preparing to just keep doing that, but then Robin cries out beside me. Looks like she was trying to get her tome out but got hit in the meantime. She drops down behind the wall. I chance a glance over the wall to see what the hell Virion is doing. He too has an arrow sticking out of his abdomen. Nonlethal, by the look of it, but it's taken him out of commission.

A few more arrows come my way, but my unfortunate meat shield stops them effectively. I still have no idea how we are going to take him out though.

I turn to Robin. "Can you move?"

She grimaces at me. "I don't think I can aim like this. You'd have to heal me." Another arrow clacks against the wall. I duck down and toss the now quite dead archer aside.

I pull out my staff from behind my back. "I'll have to yank out the arrow. I figure it'll tear some on the way out, so this'll hurt like a bitch." She nods, visibly clenching her teeth in advance.

Before I've even gotten a grip on the shaft, though, I hear the door to the barn being thrown open. Light fills the open area in front of the door, blocked only by the shadow of the man I assume is Virion's debt collector as he strides out.

"What's all this noise?" a gruff voice calls out. "Where's the gods damned fruit that's meant to meet me, huh?"

No one answers. That's weird, actually; I look up to the roof, and have to double-take. Where did the roof archer go?

I glance over to the man who strode out. Oh fuck. There's no mistaking it; that's Hero-class armor. We are _not_ ready to handle promoted units yet. He's hefting a pretty mean-looking axe, too. I don't want to have that buried in my skull, thanks.

But then I remember Jackson. I remember Isadora. I remember what Maribelle's face looked like as so many of the people she loved were being cut down around her. I can't let that happen again. I won't.

I have to step in before he finds the injured Virion and Robin, though. If he finds either of these two, they're as good as dead. I consider grabbing the sword—you know, weapon triangle and all—but remembering how it went before, I don't think it'll help much.

I stand to my full height. Robin pulls on my robe, whispering desperately, "What on earth are you doing?" but I've already made my call. Not again.

Staff in hand, I stroll out around the wall and call, "Hey, you." He turns to look my way. He's young, but it looks like he's already collected his share of scars over the years. One of them leaves a noticeable line in his beard, even in the dim light. Why do only villains have beards in this world?

"Who the hell are you? Where's Virion?" he demands.

"Well, if your boss gets to send someone else to do his dirty work, then so does Virion," I reply.

"And do you have the money for my employer with you then?" he asks.

I gesture with a nod toward the wall, where the guy with the sword in his chest is still faintly groaning. "Does that answer your question?" Don't let him know you're currently shitting yourself. Don't break character. Getting inside his head is half the battle, right?

"Crystal clear," he replies, and then suddenly–GAH AXE! Block it with the staff, good, back up, back up, back up! Getting inside his head is _not_ half the battle! Block again! Don't get punched in the–

Yeah, you got punched in the face. Focus! Here comes the axe again! Dodge it, sidestep, duck under the swing aimed for the neck. Christ, I am on the defensive here. What was the plan again? Right, there wasn't a plan. I can taste iron in my mouth from that punch.

This is not going well. Any second now I'm gonna take a real hit and then that'll be it for me and this run.

Wait. I remember something. Something that worked last time. Please work, please work. Dodge the swing, block the follow-up, make sure the orb is right in his face, and FLASH!

Yes! He reels back, blinded by the light (with all due respect to Manfred Mann). To capitalize on the disorientation, I go straight for his axe, wrenching it out of his hands. He panics, reaching out blindly. I sidestep easily.

Alright, now try not to think about it too much for this next part. You used to split firewood all the time back home, after all. Just split down the middle.

I swing my arms over my head, but as I'm coming down with the axe, suddenly one of my arms is grabbed. Shit, he recovered too quickly. My swing is so off-balance that it's basically useless now. I try to pull the axe away from him, but he just uses his free hand to uppercut me and send me staggering back. Now the axe is on the ground.

And now it's back in his hand. He raises it over his head to deal the final blow, but then there's another flash of light flying in from the right and then the axe is gone. I whirl over to the source, and there's Robin, hunched over the wall and holding a tome in her bloodied hands.

I don't have long to act. I didn't see where the axe went, but there's my staff. I scoop it up and swing it into the man's head, sending him toppling over. I stand over him, fueled only by mortal panic as I rain down blow after blow on his uncovered head. Even so, he's still alive and kicking, and it looks like he might hit his second wind soon.

In a last ditch effort to make him stay down, I flip the staff over in my hands and thrust downward, resulting in a very untidy entrance into the side of his throat. Looks like it was enough, though, based on all that blood. After a few moments, he stops moving.

I stand there for a moment, unsure. I think this is the first time I've ever killed a real person. I've seen plenty of death already, but I've never felt the life drain out of somebody like this before tonight.

I wish I could say it felt bad. It doesn't feel good either, I suppose. My mouth is screwed up in a sort of half-smile, half-grimace, and my face still stings with the impact of the punch from before. I taste blood, and I hope to God it's mine.

A groan from Virion makes me remember myself. I rush over to him and get him on his back. Looks like the arrow is lodged in his solar plexus. That must hurt. I get a firm grip on the arrow shaft, my hand pressed against the warm blood on his clothes.

"You ready?" I ask.

"As I will ever be, I suppose," he replies. I nod, and he shuts his eyes so he won't have to look as I wrench the arrow out. He gasps in pain twice, once for the removal and once as I'm closing the wound seconds later.

I decide to give him a minute to breathe and head over to Robin, carefully stepping around the Hero's body as I do so. When I get to the other side of the wall, she's curled up around the arrow in her stomach and clenching her jaw as she struggles to breathe normally.

"Took you long enough," she grumbles.

"I didn't know how badly Virion was hurt, so I had to check him first," I reply, crouching down next to her.

She sighs. "Probably a smart move."

I turn her onto her back, preparing to yank out the sucker. "Reminds me of the day we met," I say with a wry smile. "Though the hand axe in the leg was a much scarier wound than this."

"Or perhaps you just scared more easily back then—hungh!" she groans as I pull the arrow out. "Hey! I wasn't re–aaaaagh," her whining interrupted by my healing the wound.

"Sorry, what was that?" I ask innocently.

"Jerk," she says, sitting up after a moment and feeling the healed wound carefully.

We stand up to join Virion, who is now standing over the dead Hero.

"By the by," Virion asks, "how did you manage to dispatch the archer on the roof?"

Robin and I exchange a look. "You mean that wasn't you?" I ask. "I was just assuming you got a good shot off while injured."

Virion's eyebrows shoot up. "No, not me. Neither of you took care of him?"

"Cover, _now_!" Robin shouts, and we all leap back behind the retaining wall. "If none of us took him out, we have to assume he's still here somewhere."

After a few minutes, it seems like he's not coming out. Robin stands up, and Virion and I follow suit. "Randall, I want you with me as we check the barn out. Virion, I want you watching and ready to fire at a moment's notice."

He nods and nocks and arrow while we enter the barn. Nothing unusual in here, just rotted straw and weathered wooden pens. In the back, though, is a ladder that leads to the loft, which in turn has a ladder leading to the roof. Robin goes first, sword in hand as she climbs up, and I follow closely behind. By the time I get up to the loft, Robin is already crouched over something, investigating. As I step closer I see it's the archer, dead as a doornail with his neck sliced open.

I whistle. "That's not ominous."

She glances back. "It's fortunate for us this time, but that doesn't make it any less of a mystery. Who did this, why did they do it, and how did they do so without being seen? That's too many things we don't know."

On the phrase 'without being seen,' I realize I've got a pretty good idea of who it might have been. "Well anyway, I doubt the man's carcass has many clues for us. Let's go."

Reluctantly, she nods and follows me back down the ladder. As we walk outside, Virion lowers his bow and joins us.

"And our remaining opponent?" he asks.

"Taken care of," I reply simply.

He breathes a sigh of relief. "Excellent. I cannot thank the pair of you enough. There may yet be further attempts on my life in the future, but for tonight we have thwarted that threat together."

"All in a night's work, I guess," I say.

Beside me, Robin has calmed down enough that she's yawning again. "Speak for yourself. I'm well and truly beat."

"Though I must say," Virion remarks, now looking down at the Hero's body, "you really outdid yourself this time, Randall. That man was one of the lord's elite mercenary soldiers. That sort of armor is not afforded to just anyone, you know."

I scoff a little. "I'm flattered, but I'm pretty sure I got lucky. I don't think I'd win a fight like that a second time."

"I dunno," Robin says, clapping me drowsily on the shoulder, "you did get him on your first try." She pauses. "Or else, you know, you'd be dead. Maybe you wouldn't make a bad addition to the front line after all."

Maybe she's got a point, more than she knows. I didn't even have to reset fighting that guy. It worked out the very first time. I might have some degree of skill after all! Still… "Hard pass, Robin. I think I like putting people together just a little bit more than I like taking them apart."

She shrugs. "Gotta keep my options open, after all."

I grimace. "We're more than tools, you know."

She grins evilly.

* * *

When I get back to my room, I'm not entirely surprised to find a masked Lucina there.

"So, you decided to join the fun, huh?" I ask.

She squirms a little under my gaze. "It sounded like you might need some assistance, so I was keeping an eye on things from afar. That is, until I saw Virion go down. I decided then that I couldn't stand back any longer. So yes, I did eliminate the roof watchman."

"And here I thought you were hoping to intervene as infrequently as possible," I remark with a slanted smirk.

"I do! I still do. It's just that certain events were not discussed with us in the future, so I must also keep an eye on things to make sure that the later events that I was told about come to pass in the same way until it's time to change them."

"Huh?"

She tries again. "In order to make sure that the Valmese aggression will one day be brought to Ylisse's attention before the Valmese themselves make landfall, Virion must survive until then." She pauses. "I also want to make sure that Inigo doesn't lose his father."

I noticed that hesitation. "Oooh, someone got the hots for Inigo, hmm?" I tease, leaning in playfully.

She responds too quickly and too loudly. "No! Nonsense! I just don't want any of my companions to lose their parents! Of course I would want to protect everyone!"

"You know, I would have believed you, cause I was just giving you some grief. But that reaction, my, my. It looks like I might have stumbled upon the truth," I say slyly.

Even under the mask, she visibly reddens. "Even in this time, you're like this…"

"Oh good, old man Randy doesn't lose his touch," I say.

She sighs. "No, he doesn't."

"So, we've only got a couple days left before party time, right?" I ask.

She gets serious again. "That's right. It's going to be a tough fight."

"Think we'll be able to handle it?"

"We have to hope. I pray that my intervention can divert us from the path to destruction."

"Sure would be nice."

She turns toward the window. "I should go. It will be daylight before long, and after the night you've had, I think you will need rest."

I hold up a hand. "One thing, before you go."

"Yes?"

"Can you please, _please_ let me see how you just disappear like that?"

She grins. "Maybe someday." And she's already out the window.

Ugh.

* * *

 **A/N: See? I can sometimes have a first encounter that doesn't kill him! Hope you guys liked this one, and I hope you're pumped, because next chapter it's assassination time! As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**


	12. Ch 12: Donny Dents His Pot

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 12: Donny Dents His Pot**

"Hm hm hm hmm… hm hm hm hmm…"

Is that what I think it is?

"Maribelle, what are you humming? I don't know that one," Lissa says. The three of us are on standby while the Shepherds have a light sparring session the morning after Virion's would-be murder attempt. Because they are taking it a little bit easy today, we aren't seeing much action.

Maribelle looks surprised. "Oh, well, it's a song that Randall taught me when we were in captivity in Plegia. I think he said it was called... '500 Miles,' was it?" she says. "I didn't realize I was humming it, but I suppose it's not unusual. It's an infectious little tune." She shoots me a mock-dirty look. "It gets stuck in my head for days at a time, truth be told."

Lissa turns to me. "Randy, you can sing? Why haven't I heard you sing before?"

"Beeecause for most of my time in Ylisse I've been either hanging with Maribelle at her villa or trying really hard not to die?" I reply.

"Huh. I guess that's true!" Lissa says. "Well come on, sing something!"

"No way."

"Whaaat? Why not?" She pouts something fierce.

I cross my arms. "The mood's gotta be right."

"Oh, and I suppose the Plegian dungeon was a good place to get in the mood?" she says.

Maribelle blanches. I bet I do too. "Dude, word choice," I hiss.

"I assure you, there was no 'mood' in that dingy, filthy prison cell!" Maribelle adds. "We just needed to do something to pass the time is all. He taught me some songs, and I taught him some of the Ylissean court dances."

Lissa smirks. Oooh boy, where are you going with this? "Sounds pretty romantic to me."

My face is on fire. "That room was basically the least _romantic_ place I can imagine!"

"Agreed!" Maribelle chimes in. "To say nothing of the company!"

Now I turn to her. "Well okay, that's just sort of mean."

Lissa just laughs behind her hand. "I'll be keeping an eye out for a wedding invitation in the mail."

" _Don't_ do that," Maribelle says.

"Fine, fine," Lissa relents, raising her hands defensively.

The rest of the training session is painfully silent. Nobody sparring gets hurt badly enough to need one of us, so we just stand there in a line, Lissa stifling laughter while Maribelle and I do our best not to look at anything.

The moment Chrom decides to end the session, Maribelle rushes off, stumbling over several excuses for leaving. I turn to Lissa, who still hasn't wiped that grin off her face.

"Come on, Lissa. Be cool, girl, damn," I say.

"You come on! Do you know how often do I get a chance to poke that much fun at Maribelle? Like never! She's so serious most of the time, you know? It's nice to get under her skin a little bit," she replies.

"That may be, but do you have to throw me under the bus as well?"

"What's a bus?"

"Whatever. Carriage?"

"Anyway, it's fine! It's not like you're really working that angle, are you?" She waves a hand.

I pause. I actually have no idea how to answer that.

"Wait, are you?" She finally gets a little serious.

"Ummm…" I suddenly find the ground very interesting to look at.

"Randy, come on. What's up?"

"I don't really know. Maybe?"

" _Maybe_? You'd better have a more concrete idea than that!" she says, hands on her hips.

"So I don't know how I feel! Sue me!" I protest.

"When did this start?" she asks.

"Oh gee Lissa, I dunno, maybe it was when we spent a month and a half slicing each other's arms open and teaching me how to be a functioning healer, not to mention the numerous private dinners we had during that time. Or maybe it was when we spent almost two more weeks in an enclosed, dark room together. Ooor maybe it was when she saved my life shortly after Aversa made mincemeat of my chest. There were plenty of points it could have started, I'm pretty sure."

"I thought you said that prison cell had no romantic atmosphere at all!"

"I lied! Obviously! It was awful in there but that meant that all we had was each other. Being stuck in a place like that brought the two of us closer together, I think."

She considers for a moment. "Just be careful, okay Randy? The things that made sense alone in that dark cell might not make as much sense out here among your allies," she says slowly.

"What does that mean?"

"Don't get me wrong! I'm rooting for you, I really am, but just… please be careful is all." She looks down.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I say as I walk back inside the barracks for some Stahl-cooked grub.

What was up with that?

* * *

Ah, the bathhouse. Been a long while. I slowly sink into the water, feeling both dirt and tension leave my body. Good lord above this is nice. I need a nice bit of relaxation before the shit hits the fan tomorrow.

Ugh, that's going to suck.

Stahl comes in a few minutes after I do and sits down across from me.

"Stahl, I gotta tell you, having your cooking after all this time was just what I needed," I say. He made this beef roast that just about melted in my mouth. I'll admit I came close to tearing up again during dinner.

He nods appreciatively. "Much obliged. Gotta contribute somehow, as my performance on the battlefield is so middling, right?"

I shrug. "Nothing wrong with consistent performance, I say."

"I suppose. I've heard you improved a lot, though, when you were under Maribelle's tutelage."

"Yeah, for sure. I owe her a lot," I reply, untying my hair and letting myself get nearly submerged. Waaaaarm~

Suddenly, something touches my leg. "Gah!" I yelp, then catch myself. "Oh hey, Kellam. I don't suppose you've been here for a while?"

He laughs. "No worries, I came in with Stahl. I haven't been here long."

I'm still embarrassed. I promised myself early on that I wouldn't lose track of him or ignore him like a lot of others do. "So Kellam, how are you feeling when you're out in the field?" I ask. My healer instinct wants to check in with everyone once in a while to make sure they're okay, I guess.

"I guess I feel… normal?" He shrugs. "I don't feel too different, really."

"I feel like we all underutilize your ability to go unseen," I say. "You'd make a really good assassin, I bet."

"Well, maybe, but I'd never want to do something like that. I prefer being a knight, a protective wall that others can hide behind when they need it," he replies.

"Others, eh?" Stahl says, narrowing his eyes. "No one in particular?"

"What do you mean?" Kellam asks.

"Come on, buddy. I've noticed how much time Miriel has been spending with you lately. You're saying you don't have a soft spot for her?" Stahl says. Oh boy, I am on board for this conversation. OTP lads.

Kellam rubs his chin thoughtfully. "You know, you're right. She has been hanging around me quite often recently, hasn't she? She mentioned it was so that she could study my lack of presence, though, so I figured it was totally professional."

I decide to chime in. "Well sure, _at first_ it's all hands-off, chaste as a bring-your-mom-to-work day at a convent, but then when you start spending a lot more time together, that's when things, you know, escalate." I nudge him with an elbow and bounce an eyebrow.

"Escalate?"

"Well," Stahl says, "do you like spending all this time with her?"

"Yeah, I would say so," Kellam says. "I mean, she's one of the only people I've ever met who doesn't just tolerate me and my… quirk. She's actually more interested in me _because_ of it. That's pretty special."

Caaan you feeeel the looooove toniiiiight?

"And does she like spending time with you?" I ask.

"She seems to. Used to be that she would just follow me as I went about my daily business, but more recently she sometimes suggests that I accompany her places that she'd ordinarily visit alone. I've learned a lot about magic visiting all those stores with her, even though I'm pretty sure there isn't a magical bone in my body," Kellam replies.

I grin at Stahl. "Sounds like dates to me," I say.

"I'm inclined to agree. I didn't know you've been accompanying any fine ladies on their market trips, you sly dog," Stahl adds.

I'm pretty sure Kellam has reddened quite thoroughly by now. It's kinda hard to tell exactly, as he's still Kellam after all and it's a little hard to make out. "Come on guys, it's no big deal, right?"

"Ah, but the journey of a thousand miles, my friend," I say sagely.

They both pause. "The journey of a thousand miles what?" Stahl asks.

I guess that's not a common adage in this world. "It must begin with a single step," I finish. A collective 'Oooh' from the pair of them.

"How come this is only coming up now, though?" I ask. "You and Miriel getting closer to each other, I mean. Surely you two have known each other for a while."

"Well, Miriel is actually a relatively recent recruit. She only joined up maybe a year or so ago. And with her intense study habits combined with Kellam's, uh, little issue, I doubt she really took notice of him until these troubles with Plegian invaders have forced us all to start getting serious about combat training," Stahl explains. Makes sense to me, I suppose.

"But what do I actually do now?" Kellam asks. "I've never really thought about anyone that way before."

I glance at Stahl, who shrugs. I know sort of how it works back in my former life, but around these parts I'm a little in the dark. If the game is any indication, the next step is to propose marriage, but somehow I feel like that would be a little bit out of place here too.

"I don't really know, bud," I say. "If anything, I might need some tips myself."

Stahl perks up at that. "Is that so? Got your eye set on a young lady of your own?"

"Well, maybe. But even if I do, I don't really know how the whole courtship thing works around these parts. Do people date for a while, or do they just sort of jump straight to engagement?"

Kellam and Stahl both laugh. "What, just one day going up to the girl you've had your eye on and saying 'Look, I know it's been pretty tame before now, but would you consider bearing my children?' Is that how it works anywhere?" They both laugh some more.

Well then. I guess that answers that. So much for sticking to the script. "Well back where I came from, sometimes marriage was arranged by the family, so sometimes people would meet their spouse for the first time on the day they'd get married."

"Oh sure, among the noble classes that used to be pretty common around here too. Everyone knows the story of the tragic couple Hardin and Nyna, after all. In more recent times, though, marriage in Ylisse is usually companionate, even among the wealthiest and most important. I imagine Chrom himself will someday marry someone close to him, regardless of her station," Stahl says.

Might be sooner than you think, Stahl. Chapter 11 will be here before too long. Regardless, I can't help but engage in some gossip. "So, any thoughts on who Chrom might chase after?"

Kellam shrugs. "Who could say? He doesn't spend a lot of time with women other than Lissa, after all. I guess he was always pretty comfortable around Sully, though."

Stahl raises a brow. "Well sure, but isn't that because she's barely a woman at all to him? And to hear Robin complain of it, he does that to her as well. The only woman I've ever seen him treat like a lady is Maribelle."

"You might have a point there," Kellam says. "She's definitely the only person I've seen him taking tea with apart from Lissa and Frederick."

I'm eager to get off that subject. "Buuuut, what about Sumia? She seems to hang on his every word, doesn't she?"

Stahl considers for a moment. "Also true. Who knows? Maybe he's holding out for someone we haven't met. He does have a life outside the Shepherds, you know."

Kellam laughs. "Could have fooled me."

Stahl laughs too. "Fair enough."

I abstain from laughing. I find I'm not in a laughing mood. Stupid automarrying Chrom.

* * *

For an entirely different reason, I'm lying awake in bed that night. The assassination attempt is tomorrow. I try my best to remember what kind of enemies we'll be coming up against. Mostly thieves, dark mages, and fighters, if I'm remembering right. Still, there will be Validar as well. Since the whole level progression thing seems to have been thrown out the window, I'll have to keep a watchful eye out for him. I can't let him get ahold of anyone or else…

I curl up around my pillow.

I really hate dying.

* * *

"Randall, are you okay? You seem like you're on edge."

I shake my head to clear my mind a bit. "I'm fine, just a little preoccupied is all."

Robin raises a brow. "Alright, if you say so. Anyway, where's that damn… ah, here!" She pulls out a yellow-bound tome from a very precarious-looking stack. Miraculously, the stack doesn't fall. She holds it up to me, showing off the large lightning bolt on the cover. "A basic Thunder tome. If you've got the aptitude, this is a good place to start."

"By the way, I thought you couldn't teach me magic because you forgot learning how to do it," I say as we leave her room and start making our way to the training yard.

"That's true; I did forget learning it. However, after you asked if I could teach you, I decided to study up a bit on it myself and see if I could jog my memory. It still felt like I was learning it for the first time, but hopefully I can explain it to you now."

"Are you sure it's not because you just want an excuse to frontline me?" I ask.

She very carefully doesn't look at me for a moment, but can't hold back her smirk.

"I knew it!"

"Look, if it's a skill you have, we need to know that! A versatile soldier is always better than a pigeonholed one," she counters.

I sigh. "That's fair." By now we have reached the field. "So, where do we start?"

"First, we have to determine if you have the aptitude. Much like with healing staves, there is an inherent inborn ability to wield magic tomes that one either does or doesn't have. If you have it, great, but if not, it's better to call it in early."

"Makes sense. How do we determine that, then?" I ask.

"Take this." She holds out the Thunder tome to me. I take it and wait for further instruction.

...She's not saying anything.

"Now what?"

"Do you feel it?"

"Feel what?"

"The book should feel like it's tingling, or almost vibrating in your hands." Oooh, so it's like the healing staff then. That makes more sense.

"I don't feel anything. It's just a book."

She sighs, disappointed. "If that's true, it's unlikely you have the aptitude for it. That's unfortunate."

I hand the book back. "Well, I guess that's that. I'm a little relieved, actually."

She blinks. "Why?"

I shrug. "It means that I'm already filling the role I'm most suited for. If magic combat is impossible, and if physical combat is a crapshoot, which it totally is, then that means my best use is to be a healer. It means I'm on the right track."

After a moment, Robin smiles. "I guess you're right. You've been doing good work keeping us all in fighting shape."

I look around. "Nah, the only unfortunate thing is that we came all the way out here for nothing."

She looks up at a passing lonely cloud. "Least it's a pretty nice day."

For now at least. "Yeah, I guess it is, huh?"

* * *

I tried to sleep. I really did. I know it would have made a better save point if I grabbed a nap just before the evening rolled around, but I'm so wound up with a mix of excitement and mortal dread that my body just won't calm down enough. I considered asking Frederick to knock me out or something, but then reasoned that that might do more harm than good.

Regardless, the sun is descending, and I'm doing my best not to panic. It's maddening knowing that they're coming, but not knowing exactly when or from where. I excuse myself from dinner early, earning a few odd glances from some folks at the table. Still, no one says anything as I head up to my room.

Before long the sun has dropped below the horizon. Not long now. I'd better be ready.

I pull on my robes and make sure my staff is ready to go. I will not be caught unawares tonight.

I leave the barracks and head into the field between the barracks and the palace proper. On the way, I notice Lissa sitting alone on what I suddenly remember is the same bench she sat me down on all those weeks ago.

I take a seat beside her. "What's up, kiddo?"

She scowls at me. "I'm not a kid, Randy."

I smile innocently. "I know. Something the matter?"

She looks down at the ground. "I dunno… Not really, I guess. It's just, well… do I seem immature to you?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because whenever Emm and Chrom have a meeting with the council to discuss the best course of action for Ylisse, I'm never invited to join in. It's not like I'm actually a kid; I'm already eighteen! Chrom started going to those council meetings when he was only seventeen! I don't get it."

Oof. Political family stuff. Not really my forte. Let's see if I can wing this. "Well, I know there was a war some years ago, between Ylisse and Plegia, right?"

"Yeah, and?"

"So that resulted in Emmeryn having to assume power at a weirdly young age when your father died, right? I'd think she would've been, what," (time to pretend like I don't know), "eight or nine at the time?"

"Yeah, she was nine."

"And Chrom is, ehh, two or three years younger?"

"Yeah, he turned twenty-three not long before you arrived, back in May."

"So that means he was young, but not all that young. He'd have been six or seven."

"What are you getting at, Randy?"

"Don't you think that's awfully young to have to take control of a country?"

"I guess so."

"What I mean is, they never really got to be kids." Ooh, that's good. Keep that up. "Maybe the reason they keep you out of the council meetings is that they just want to let you be a kid for as long as you can."

"But I've already assumed adult responsibilities elsewhere in my life! I'm out there with everyone else, healing others on the front lines. Don't you think that warrants an admission to the council?"

"Well Lissa, you may well get your chance. War is coming back around, after all."

She looks startled at my statement. She opens her mouth to reply, but before she can, Robin comes running toward us from the Palace.

"Trouble! The palace is being invaded! We have to get everyone assembled, now!" she calls to us, motioning for us to follow.

Each of us takes one floor of the barracks, shouting down the hallways to get everyone up and moving. It's a testament to their excellent training that they're ready to go in almost no time. As one group, we head back up toward the palace, just in time to watch the guards at the gate get cut down by a pair of thieves as they begin their assault in earnest.

"Take a partner and spread through the halls! Leave no area unattended!" Robin commands. I turn to face the group, where most of the Shepherds have already paired off. The only one without a partner is Donnel.

"You and me, Don!" I tell him.

"Right!" he replies. He's fortunately switched out his village clothes for a thin mail set, so he's got at least that much protection for the fight. He's still wearing that pot though…

Robin directs all the pairs on where to go. Donnel and I are assigned to the eastmost hallway on the upper floor, with windows overlooking the field and beyond it the barracks. Miriel and Kellam are assigned to the same hallway but closer to the front, making us the far back line in case anyone slips past the wall that is Kellam.

In other words, she's putting us where she imagines we'll see the least combat. Thanks for that, Robin.

We manage to get to our designated area without running into any trouble. Once there, we both take a few deep breaths.

"Doing okay there?" he asks me.

"Yeah, I'm fine. You?"

His lance is trembling in his grip. "I'm still a little new to all this. I don't rightly know how the enemy got here so quickly, but I'm still gonna try and keep a solid head on my shoulders."

"Speaking of, what is up with that pot, dude?" I ask.

He smiles. "Well you see, it actually–"

 _CRASH_

Oh, there goes a window. A large dark-clad shape crashes into Donnel headlong and sends him careening into the opposite wall, which he hits his head against with a metallic _clang_ before falling to the ground.

My instincts take over and I swing my staff at the invader, only for the shadowy figure to turn just in time to catch the staff mid-swing. It also lets me see their face, currently shrouded in a black mask.

The figure is also carrying a black tome. Oh boy, more fun with dark magic.

Before I think to yank my staff out of their hand, the mage pulls it out of my grip and tosses it out the broken window. There goes my lifeline. Donnel doesn't seem to be conscious over there, either.

With their hand free to start casting spells, the mage flips open the black tome and gathers magic in their hand.

By the way, you know how in the game, dark magic is usually more like purple magic for some reason? This is truly black magic. Like, sucks in the ambient light that surrounds it levels of black. It's like what I imagined a black hole would do.

And now one is being hurled at me. _Duck, you idiot!_ Good, I hit the deck in time. Though now that I think about it, that blast may have destroyed some of my hair. What an asshole.

Time to bail. Satisfied that the mage is after me and not looking to finish off Donnel, I turn around and sprint back. A couple more blasts shoot by me, missing by just a little every time. It seems this mage isn't too skilled at running and gunning.

Oh shit, is that the end of the hallway? Are there any turns anywhere? I think I passed one before, but that's behind the mage now so that's not helpful. There! On the left at the end of the hallway is a door. Thank God.

Aaand it's locked. Great. I very briefly ponder jumping out the window. From this height, though, that's almost-certain death. At the very least, serious injury. And it seems like this assailant had no trouble getting inside that way, so it's not looking good.

Welp, if you can't run, and you can't hide, there's really only one option left.

Narrowly ducking under another spell, I sprint straight at the mage, causing them to reel back. Unsure of what else to do, I let my football instincts take over and tackle them to the ground. On hitting the ground, the hood and mask are knocked loose. Though frankly, after landing on these things I probably could've told you who it is anyway.

"Oh, hi Aversa," I grunt through her cleavage as she struggles to escape my grip. "What are you doing here?"

I realize too late that her knee is in an advantageous spot. She jerks it up suddenly, sending me into convulsions of crotch pain. That's just the distraction she needs to worm free and get her tome back.

I do my best to work through the pain and scramble to my feet, but I'm not fast enough. She's already got another blast ready, and as I move to try and dodge she lets a blast loose that hits me squarely in the right leg. I'm sent flying back into the corner. By the time I get my bearings, she's already loading up another blast.

"What, no time for chit-chat this time? Daddy Validar must've been reeeally mad after last time, huh?" I ask, trying to maintain bravado in the midst of incredible pain. My entire leg feels like what I imagine the experience of necrosis is like.

At the word 'Validar,' her face contorts in rage. "How do you know about that?" she demands, stepping forward and pulling me up by the front of my robes to a one-legged standing position. God damn does this hurt.

"Which part? The part where you're working for Validar, the part where Validar wants to bring Grima back to his full strength, or the part where he's brainwashing you to help make it happen?"

She pulls me toward her and then pushes away, slamming the back of my head against the wall and making me lose my balance enough that I have to put weight on the wounded leg. I can't help screaming in pain.

"All of it. As well as how you knew we were coming tonight. I want answers. Now." The struggle to keep her anger contained is written all over her face.

"Well, to be totally honest with you, I didn't know you were coming tonight. So there's that. As for the rest of it, I just know. No one told me, I haven't been sneaking around. For all you know I've been guessing at things."

"You couldn't have guessed his name out of nowhere! You're getting your information from somewhere! And I want to know why you say I'm brainwashed!" She shakes me a little for emphasis. I can feel the will to fight draining from me.

"I say you're brainwashed because you are. Think about it. How far back can you remember your life?" I ask, hoping that Validar wasn't skilled enough to give her a lifetime of false memories.

"I've been with Master Validar! I always have been, ever since the beginning!" she protests.

I might have a chance. "The beginning? When was that? Who's your mother? For that matter, who's your father? Because I'll tell you right now, it isn't Validar."

With the hand that isn't holding me against the wall, she grasps her head in apparent pain. Maybe trying to remember her past causes her head to hurt as her mind struggles against locked memories?

After a moment, she shakes her head and drops me to the floor. "Rrgh, I won't let you poison my mind any longer!" she shouts, taking a step back and preparing to cast another spell. I squeeze my eyes shut and clench every muscle I still control, bracing for impact.

It still isn't nearly enough to prepare me for the point-blank blast of dark magic that hits my chest. Much like the battle in Plegia, darkness and pain overtake me, and I feel my body's overwhelming desire to succumb. Still, the desire to live is too strong, and I sure as shit am not going to lose consciousness again unless I'm sure to die before I wake up.

She looks down at me. "Tch. You're not much when you don't have someone to bail you out. I don't know why we were ever concerned about you." She prepares another blast to finish me off. This time I intend to stare her down while she does it, just for spite.

That is, until the door to my right blasts open and a thief's body is sent flying, crashing through the window and falling outside. What the hell could have thrown somebody that hard?

Oh, it's Panne. Hello giant bunny!

She transforms briefly into her human form so that she can get through the door, then transforms back into her rabbit form as quickly as she can while Aversa whips up an attack. Before she can fire it, though, Panne leaps against the wall and bounces off it, propelling herself at the dark mage and kicking her arm so fiercely that I can hear the _snap_ from my corner.

Aversa shrieks in pain, cradling her injured arm as she backs away from the still-advancing beast. Before Panne can get another attack off, though, Aversa kicks behind her to shatter the window nearby and leaps outside, seeming to fade from sight as she falls.

Satisfied with that result, Panne leaps over to me and transforms again. "Human. Are you harmed?" she asks stiffly.

"Very… much. Healer please," I sputter through ruined lungs.

She nods, then rushes through the broken door, transforms, and bounds out of sight. Despite the extreme pain and exhaustion the wound is inflicting on me, I am determined to stay awake no matter how long it takes someone to get here and heal me. If anyone got killed I still want to be able to go back, no matter how much of a hassle it will be.

After a few agonizing minutes pass, I hear a faint "Whoa, whoa, whoaaa!" getting closer and closer. As she rounds the corner, I realize Panne has returned with Lissa and Maribelle on her back. Once she's near enough, she dumps the pair roughly on the floor in front of me.

Maribelle opens her mouth, no doubt to chastise the taguel, but when she spots me her attention shifts. "Randall!"

She and Lissa both retrieve their staves. As they point them at me, I manage to say, "S-slow."

"What? Why? This injury is serious!" Lissa protests.

"Just… please," I say.

Maribelle sighs. "Alright. This is going to hurt."

The process of having Aversa's dark magic undone is even more painful than I remember. It must have been a closer, stronger hit this time, because every nerve in my torso and right leg is searing as they are pulled, kicking and screaming, back to life. I occasionally have to call for breathers when the pain gets to be too much. Overall, the process probably takes fifteen or twenty minutes.

When it's finished, the pain is gone, but the exhaustion remains. I smile weakly up at my saviors, including Panne, who stands aloofly off to the side, watching with feigned disinterest.

"There now," Maribelle says, "that wasn't so bad, was it?"

My laugh comes out faint, but honest.

* * *

I learn that despite the fact that the Plegians took us by surprise, we managed to get by with no Shepherd casualties. There are a few unconscious folks, among them Donnel (with a fresh dent in his pot helmet), Vaike (who got cocky and tried to take on three thieves at once, one of whom I would later learn was Gaius), and Robin (the most seriously injured of anyone, as she took the brunt of the damage while she and Chrom were fighting off Validar himself). Even though it turns out it was unnecessary, I am still standing by my decision to make myself stay awake.

And there's Lucina, sans mask, heading for the door. And there goes Chrom after her. Looks like the events of the game are back on track, even though Aversa decided to show up. Maybe she really did come just to take me out.

For the most part, we sit around speculating on the actions of Plegia. How did they get this close this quickly? Is there someone sheltering Plegian military around here? I recall my suspicion that the same lord Virion owes money to is the one working with Plegia, but as that's no more than a hypothesis I keep it to myself. After a little bit, Panne joins us as well.

Looking to make a good first impression for once, I shuffle over to her as she enters the room. "Your name is Panne, right?"

"Yes."

"My name is Randall. Tonight you saved my life. I won't forget that. Thank you," I say, perhaps as seriously as I've ever said anything.

"You are…" she looks down and off to the side, no doubt remembering the conversation she just had with Emmeryn, "welcome, Randall."

Deciding I actually don't like the stiff atmosphere after all, I add, "By the way, killer outfit you've got there. You simply must tell me where you got it."

"Eyes off my pelt, man-spawn," she growls.

"Eep! Just a joke, I'm sure I couldn't pull it off anyway."

"Certainly not. I would stop you before you got it off me." She doesn't seem angry; I think she was just stating that as a matter of fact.

"No, I don't mean I'd literally— You know what, I'll talk to you later, Panne."

"Farewell, man-spawn."

As I turn to leave, though, Robin wakes up and is instantly panicked.

"Is everyone okay? Did anyone get hurt? Killed?" she demands of Lissa, who's been standing nearby to check up on her.

A little taken aback at first, Lissa recovers quickly and says, "Everyone's fine, Robin. Vaike and Donnel are unconscious from their injuries but should make a speedy recovery, and everyone else is okay."

With a sigh, Robin slumps back down on the bench they had laid her on. "You people are going to stress me into an early grave someday," she says to the ceiling.

I can certainly understand the sentiment, Robin.

* * *

" _Alive? You left him there, still drawing breath?"_

" _Y-yes, but only barely! I wouldn't be surprised if we learn of his death posthaste in the coming days. I did hit him from extremely close range with the magic of Goetia, after all."_

 _He takes a moment to slow his breathing and pinches the bridge of his nose. "At least you had the good sense to use the most powerful magic at our disposal. Unfortunately," he coughs, and a small spray of blood hits my face, "it seems it wasn't enough. Nor did I bring enough to overpower the princeling and my darling daughter."_

 _The mention of his daughter brings up another lingering question. If there were ever a time to ask about it, it would be now, before the healers can put him back together._

" _Master Validar… why can't I remember?"_

" _Remember what?" He doesn't look pleased with this line of questioning._

" _Anything. Anything before we began my dark magic training. I don't remember my childhood, or my mother. Why is that?"_

" _After we suffer such a humiliating defeat at the hands of a castrated pseudo-military led by a sniveling child-prince, you choose to dwell on such trivialities?" He gets too excited and coughs again, much harder this time. Blood flies from his mouth._

" _Master Validar!"_

" _Aversa… there's no time to wait for the healer to get here. I can feel it already. The wounds are taking their toll. Quickly, the Nosferatu." He gestures toward the small pile of tomes on the table nearby._

 _It's difficult to navigate the stack with only one working arm, but eventually I get out the dark purple tome he requested. I hand it over to him, admittedly a little reluctantly. I hate the feeling of Nosferatu._

" _Just a little bit, my dear. Just enough to stay alive for the healer, and that's all I'll take." He reaches out to grab my hand, and I give it to him. With his other hand, he flips open the tome and casts the spell._

 _I can feel the warmth, the life, being drained out of me. I hate it, I hate it._

 _I hate it._

 _Master Validar only smiles as the wounds get visibly smaller with every passing second. I can feel myself slipping out of consciousness._

" _Mas...ter…" I plead._

 _Remembering himself, he releases my hand. Exhausted, I collapse to the ground, jolting my broken arm as I hit the floor. I feel empty now, and cold._

 _It seems he took enough out of me to regain the strength to stand. He places a hand on my shoulder as he stands in front of me._

" _Such a good and faithful girl you are," he says. "The only one on whom I can rely in these uncertain times." Music to my ears. Music itself. My head doesn't hurt so much anymore._

 _Quickly, too quickly, he withdraws his hand. "You say that the Ylissean healer survived a Goetia blast at close range, straight to the chest?" As much as I can, I nod my head. "A man who knows too much is dangerous enough on his own, but if we find it this troublesome just to be rid of the man, we must be even more cautious. I'm afraid you'll have to stay out of things for a while. If you are to be useful even after Gangrel falls, the Ylisseans must be given no reason to want to destroy you on sight. For now, we must fall back and regroup. We lost most of our men already stationed in Ylisse tonight. A living Exalt is not what fate had in store for us, so we just draw plans anew in light of this."_

" _Of… course," I manage to say despite the fatigue. Even so, I am fading quickly. Ever generous, Master Validar catches me as I fall, lifting me up and placing me down on the table he was lying on before. "Thank… you," I say, and if he says anything in reply I do not hear it, as sleep takes me before the word has finished leaving my mouth._

* * *

 **A/N: Mega long chapter! At least by this story's usual standards. I wanted to work in some regular human interaction in the midst of all the crazy battle stuff that goes on, so I don't mind writing longer chapters to make that happen.**

 **I think my new favorite thing is having people speculate in the reviews as to what will happen in future chapters. It gives me the warm fuzzies.**

 **I might take a bit longer coming up with the next chapter, as finals are going to sneak up on me here in a few seconds, but after that I will ideally have a ton of time to write when I'm on Christmas break. As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**


	13. Ch 13: Maribelle Notices My Haircut

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 13: Maribelle Notices My Haircut**

" _So, how old are you, Mindy?"_

" _...Mindy? Do you mean me?"_

" _You're the only one here, aren't you?"_

" _Yes, but my name is Melinda."_

" _I know. Back where I come from, I knew a girl named Melinda, and she would get called Mindy for short by her friends."_

" _So you and I are friends?"_

" _I'd like to think so. Wouldn't you?"_

" _I suppose I could do worse. Anyway, why do you want to know how old I am?"_

" _Just curious, I guess. I want to get to know you."_

" _Hmm, I wonder if that's really it. Could it be that you're in love with me, and you want to find out if I'm a suitable age?"_

" _What? N-no! No way! I mean, not that you're not– it's just that I–"_

" _You can relax, Mister Randall. Just a joke."_

" _Right. Anyway, in the same way that Melinda's friends called her Mindy, I think you should call me Randy. All my friends back home did."_

" _I don't know if such familiarity during working hours would be deemed appropriate by…"_

" _Melinda! You're going to have to make these beds again; they're not tidy at all!"_

" _Speak of the devil. I have to go, Mister Randall."_

" _Alright, but I'm still going to call you Mindy."_

" _I suppose it's not in my power to prevent it."_

" _Melinda!"_

" _Coming, Mother! By the way, in answer to your question, I'm nineteen years old."_

" _Nineteen, huh? In case you're wondering, Mindy, that would indeed be a more or less suitable age. I'm twenty-one."_

" _I'll have to keep that in mind… Randy."_

" _Did you just–?"_

" _I'm sorry, Mister Randall, I didn't quite catch that. I'll see you later, then."_

...

" _Have you been enjoying our visit so far?"_

I wake up with a shiver. Ugh.

I roll over to look up at the window; it's still dark outside. Looks like I've still got some time to get more sleep before it's out of the fryer and into the fire.

"Are you there, Naga? It's me, Randy," I ask the ceiling. I manage a small chuckle before rolling back over.

* * *

"Aw man, I knew it!"

The bitch really did blast off some of my hair. It's still just barely long enough to gather into a tail, but it's a lot shorter than it was, especially when I have to trim away the dead, necrosis'd ends of my hair. I probe the tiny tail for a moment, eventually deciding to just untie it. It barely reaches the bottom of my neck now, and because of anime physics it doesn't even go straight down, it sorta does this down-and-back thing. Any waviness it once had (never much to begin with, really) is gone now.

Lissa giggles at me as I enter the barracks common area. "Hiya Randy. You look a little, uh, different today."

I scowl at her. "Yeah, well, getting hit repeatedly with dark magic will do that to you."

Donnel chimes in from a nearby chair where he's polishing his bronze lance, "Well hey, it's still not as bad as my hair."

I stride over to him and pluck the pot from his head. "Like anyone would know with this giant-ass pot on your noggin."

He drops his lance and flails briefly to try and get the pot back. "Hey, gimme that back!"

"Don, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret," I say, holding the pot above my head and just barely out of his reach. "Wearing this on your head looks much weirder than your hair does."

"I can't let the fine ladies of Ylisse see my messy mop! Princess, please look away!" Donnel cries, then a moment later realizes he can just give me a whap to the solar plexus to make me lower my arm. My breath seizes as he delivers the blow, and I hunch forward a little, the wind knocked out of me. Kid's got an arm. He swipes the pot from my hand and plops it back onto his head.

After a moment I'm breathing normally again. "Dude, keeping company with high-class ladies is one thing, but no matter who you're hanging around, wearing giant cookware on your head looks much more out of place than your hair, no matter how messy. Besides, lots of girls dig the messy look. Back me up on this, Lissa," I say to the princess, who is currently attempting to hold back laughter at Donnel's expense.

"I mean, he's got a point, Donny," she says. "The pot is a strange choice."

He looks thunderstruck. "Wha– really?" he asks. "But it's the shiniest, most gold-looking pot I could find!"

I shrug. "A pot is a pot, I'm afraid. And pots belong in the kitchen, not the battlefield. Besides, why not get a proper helmet now that you're with the Shepherds?"

"But I already owe Lord Chrom and the others so much! They've given me my lance, and a suit of mail to boot. I can't possibly ask more of them."

Lissa interjects, "Nonsense! Donny, if I had known before the other night that you were still wearing a pot into battle, I'd have dragged you to the armory and strapped a proper helmet on your head myself."

Donnel is stunned. "Huh. I guess I'll have to give that some more thought. Thank you, princess." He reluctantly removes the pot from his head and sets it on a nearby table. His hair really doesn't look bad, to be honest. "Sorry for hitting you, Randall."

I wave a hand. Even if it did actually kinda hurt.

"Anyway Lissa, you got time today?" I ask. "It's about time I try my hand with Rescue staves. I've never used one before, but I want to expand my repertoire."

She looks a little surprised. "Oh, uh, alright. Most of the time we try to conserve those, since they can't really be used much before they lose their magic, so I hope you can learn quickly."

"I'm sure I will," I declare with brazen confidence.

Her face brightens. "Hey, I like the dedication! You've come a long way from the guy moping on the bench that I knew a couple months ago."

"And the best is yet to come, princess."

* * *

"So I should explain how these things work," Lissa says as she hands me a staff.

I hold up a hand. "I might know a lot of the basics already, actually. I read about them a lot when I was studying under Maribelle."

"You can understand those stuffy books?" she exclaims, aghast. "But they're so boring!"

"I'm inclined to agree, but I was given no real alternative," I reply, looking off to the side.

"I guess so. Maribelle seems like she'd be a really strict teacher."

I shake my head. "That's also true, but that's not what I mean. I had to learn. I have a role to fill on this team, and when I first arrived in Ylisse I was useless. Plus, the books might have been dry, but it was still interesting to learn about how the mechanics of magic actually work. We don't have that where I came from."

"Huh? There aren't any magical guides in Valm?"

Oh shit, I forgot that's what I told them way back at the beginning. "I mean, not any that I had access to. I didn't exactly get to travel much or expand my horizons beyond that monastery."

"That's pretty weird. I would think a community of priests would keep resources on how to work staves readily available."

"Mostly they were, uh, written in some old language," I lie. "When I say I couldn't access them, I mean they were written in a language I didn't understand."

"Why didn't the monks teach you the language, then?"

"Oh, they tried. You know me though, stubborn as an ox sometimes. I just wasn't willing to learn."

She hesitates for a moment. Did I back myself into a corner with that one? Mercifully, though, she just giggles. "That explains why you didn't know much about the staff you were carrying around when we met you. Speaking of which, did you ever get that staff back?"

"Nope. I imagine it's either still at Maribelle's villa or the Plegians took it. My guess is the latter. I wouldn't be surprised if I never see it again."

"Wait, what? What do you mean?" Lissa asks.

"What? Something wrong?" I ask.

"Well, I guess not, if it doesn't bother you. But I still have the first staff I ever used on display in my bedroom, and I know for a fact Maribelle does too. The first staff a healer ever uses is important!" Lissa almost shouts.

I consider for a moment. That staff did get me in with the Shepherds in the first place, for one thing. It played a part in saving both Robin and Chrom from death early on, and they're arguably the two most important people in the world right now. Maybe more important to me, though, is how I used that staff with Maribelle's help to become an actual asset to the team. Perhaps I didn't appreciate it at the time, but those weeks were key to the growth I've worked for. And now for the first time in a long time, I'm thinking about the staff that started all of that.

"I guess you're right, Lissa," I say. "But what exactly can be done about that now? It's probably in Plegia, firmly in the possession of the enemy. I don't see us getting it back."

"But maybe it's not with them at all! It could still be at Maribelle's, you said so yourself!" she replies.

"Like hell I'm going back there," I snap.

"Huh? What's up with that?" she asks, looking a little irritated with my agitated response.

"Lissa, I don't know if this is obvious or not, but I don't really want to go back there just yet. It wasn't that long ago that Maribelle and I watched our friends get murdered there. Even if it is there, I'm not ready for that."

She backs down a little. "...Oh. I didn't think about that. I'm sorry."

Remembering myself, I put a smile on. "Hey, no worries. Now, can we get started or what?"

Picking up my cue, she smiles too. "Yeah! Okay, so obviously we are gonna start with inanimate objects, just in case you scramble all the parts on the other side or something…"

So basically, the thing to understand about Rescue staves, as far as I can distill it from the dense readings I studied on them, is that they aren't just teleportation staves; they are exchange staves. In other words, you're not just moving something from one place to another, but rather switching two areas of space with each other, contents and all. As much as you might not think about it, air has mass and takes up space, so if you just teleported a person to a spot elsewhere, you'd be putting them in the same space as a person's volume's worth of air. You'd be trying to get two things to exist in the same place at the same time. That doesn't end well.

Some of the textbooks had handy illustrations of what the early development of warping magic looked like. I still have nightmares.

So the key is that you're actually exchanging the air and whatever else is right next to you with whatever you're trying to pull near you. This is what makes Rescue staves so tricky to use; you're basically running two calculations at the same time: moving this over there, and moving that over here. It's easier to move things that aren't already in motion, which is why I'm starting with a training dummy.

A training dummy that's now in several pieces. I mean, the pieces are all right next to me, so that's a start I guess?

"Sooo... it's a good thing we opened with this, then," I deadpan.

"I would say so, yes," Lissa replies. "Let's try that again."

The more that we practice, the more impressed I am that Lissa was able to move three people down a cliffside at the same time and not, like, fuse us together into the Blob or something. Are these really supposed to be E-level staves?

I have now broken two of the Rescue staves we have. I'd actually never experienced a staff breaking before, but it's pretty spectacular. When the staff is spent, the orb atop the staff breaks apart with a loud _snap_ and a flash of light. From that point forward, the staff is little more than a fancy walking stick. The actual staff part can be reused, affixing a new orb where the old one was. I wonder faintly if it might be possible to just carry one staff and multiple orbs and just switch them out on the fly. It may be worth looking into someday.

For today, Lissa's frustration has most of my attention. "Randy, come _on_! It's like you're barely trying!" she exclaims.

"Hey, I'm trying plenty hard, thank you very much," I retort sourly.

"You know, Rescue staves are really hard to craft. We have to be careful with how much we use them. It would be nice to have another healer who can use them, especially since Maribelle never learned how herself, but it's important to think about conserving these too."

"Wait, Maribelle doesn't know how to use these?" I ask.

"That's the thing you took away from that? Ugh, boys and their fixations…" She does soften a little after a moment, though. "But yeah, she can't use them as far as I'm aware."

"Well then I really do have to learn this stuff! Having a one-up on the Gurren herself is an opportunity I can't pass up!" I'm motivated once again.

"The what? Randy, I only ever understand like half of what you're saying. Is that a Valmese thing?" Lissa asks.

"What? No, it's… I mean yeah, it's kind of an inside joke I had with the monks. Yeah."

"Ooookay," she says slowly. "Anyway, fine, let's get back to it."

After going through a couple more staves, I can finally move a training dummy reliably without any evident injury to the body. However, by this point I've pretty well exhausted myself.

"I have to say, I'm surprised you lasted this long," Lissa says to my prone, panting body on the ground. "When I was learning to use these, I couldn't use them more than around ten times a day or so. I'd say you did at least twice that."

I grunt something in reply, but I don't even bother trying to form words.

"You must really want to impress Maribelle, huh?" she teases.

With my remaining strength, I turn over and sit up. "It's not just about that," I protest. "Can't say it hurts, though. Well, I actually can. I'm hurting a lot."

Lissa reaches down to help me to my feet. "And whose fault is that?"

I grunt gratefully as I steady myself. "Fair point."

"Anyway, let's go back. I'm sure the others will be getting ready for dinner soon." Not fully trusting me on my feet yet, she hangs onto my hand and pulls me back toward the barracks. She really is too nice for her own good.

It's a little distressing, though, having to rely on the others all the time.

* * *

I'm having a little trouble getting to sleep, despite how worn out my body is. I stare at the ceiling, daring it to blink first. It doesn't.

We've only had a couple tastes of war, and already I can feel myself becoming a burden to the Shepherds. Both in Plegia and in the palace, Aversa absolutely decimated me with her magic, and I could barely fight back at all. Both times, I've relied on Maribelle, Lissa, and others to keep my ass safe. Meanwhile, I can patch people up, sure, but even then I'm far from the best, or even where I'd imagine the par for a decent healer is.

The only time I've felt truly helpful was with Virion and Robin. If it weren't for my intervention, they'd have died for sure. I know because I already saw them do just that. And with a little preparation beforehand, I was able to concretely do something. Yes, I had Robin's help, as well as Lucina's, but I stood my ground against a promoted unit and came out on top. And then I healed both Robin and Virion, saving them again.

Why does that night feel different to me? I've healed people before, but it didn't feel the same as winning that battle. What happened that made me feel so much more confident after that?

I feel a little sick to my stomach when I realize that it was only when I killed people that I felt like I was contributing something valuable.

Stop. Stop thinking like that. You are a healer. Your job, the thing you're best at, is putting your friends back together when they get hurt. Nothing else comes first. Yes, you're not as good as the others, but you're learning quickly. You're not a burden. You're an investment. Stop thinking you have to kill people to be important.

I tell myself these things, and try my hardest to believe them. I guess it half works. Regardless, I still can't sleep. Maybe going for a walk will put my head on straight.

I reach the bottom of the stairs, and hear voices in the mess hall next to the common area. Oh good, someone to talk to and get me out of my own head for a minute. I draw closer, but pause when I hear what's being said.

"Milady, I must caution you about spending so much time with that man." Despite his attempt to speak quietly, Frederick's voice carries pretty well.

"Frederick, lay off it. He's our ally! He's trying to help us!" Lissa says, not being as careful with her volume.

Do they mean me? I stand outside the doorway and do my best to make no noise at all.

"It may seem that way for the time being, but there is much we do not know about this man," he replies. "Where he comes from, why he came to Ylisse, what his aim was in joining with the Shepherds. Even if we are to believe Robin's claim of amnesia, which on milord's orders I am doing my best to believe, I somehow find Randall's claims even less believable."

"Why? He told us where he was from, didn't he? Anyway, who cares where he came from if he's working with us now?"

"He has no means of verifying his origin story. As for why we should worry about where someone is from, I should think the attempt on Lady Emmeryn's life should make it apparent. Someone inside Ylisse has been directing Plegian invaders toward Ylisstol, even housing them. Joining up with the Shepherds would make for a handy means of accessing the royal palace. It's possible, and dare I say likely, that Randall has infiltrated us with just such an intention."

"I can't believe you would say that! You've seen firsthand how much he's willing to give up for his comrades! He risked his life to help us in Southtown, and then again that night when he healed Chrom and kept him safe. He was taken prisoner _by_ the Plegians, and during that time he did everything he could to help Maribelle. He took a blast of dark magic from Aversa herself to protect Maribelle and Ricken from danger! He even got injured within an inch of his life in the same assassination attempt you want to blame him for! Can't you see that it makes no sense to think he means us harm?"

"Milady, we cannot yet rule out the possibility that this is all an act, a ruse meant to deceive us into trusting him. Spending an entire afternoon alone with such a man is inherently dangerous. I am not suggesting we string Randall up with no proof of wrongdoing, but I am advising you to be careful with him. Is there truly no doubt in you about who this man is or what his intentions are?"

A pause. "I will admit, there are a lot of times where he says things that just don't make sense. A word here or a phrase there that confuses me. But it's nothing major! I trust him."

A longer pause. "I was not initially going to mention this, on the request of milord, but concern for your safety overrides such a request. I may have knowledge that not only Randall, but Robin and Virion as well, may be working with the enemy."

"What? What on earth could make you think that?"

"Only this week, a few days before the attempt on Lady Emmeryn's life, I was on one of my nightly strolls when I saw something most peculiar. Virion was leading Robin and Randall out of the castle grounds, and eventually outside the city at large. To avoid being spotted in the open land outside the walls, I dared not follow farther, but then, some time later, the trio returned, their clothes and weapons freshly bloodied. None of them spoke about this incident to anyone else in the Shepherds, before or after the event."

"Are you serious?"

"Deadly so, milady. So please, understand my renewed suspicion of the three of them. A pair of foreigners and an apparent amnesiac leave town in the middle of the night and return with evidence of violence wrought adorning their persons. I have long distrusted that dandy Virion, but seeing the goings-on that they keep from the rest of us, I cannot help distrusting the other two as well."

"I don't… know what to say…"

"I merely wished to warn you of what I have seen. I do not yet plan to confront the trio about the incident, in case their future actions may lead us to a potential Plegian employer of theirs, but I do intend to keep a much closer eye on them in the aftermath of this grisly assassination affair. For your part, milady, I humbly ask only that you keep your wits about you when dealing with these new members to the fold. Honestly, milord has outdone himself this time, recruited a veteran self-identified thief into our ranks…"

"I guess I'll keep an eye out, if that's all you want from me."

"I thank you, milady. Now, if you will excuse me, I should like to take my leave."

"Of course. Good night, Frederick."

"Good night, milady."

Oh shit, I have to move. WherecanIgowherecanIgowherecan– _just move now!_ I dive behind a nearby couch as quietly as I can, and as I hit the ground I hear Frederick's footsteps as he leaves the mess hall. By the grace of God, he seems not to have heard me over the sound of his own armor, which he is still wearing even at this ungodly hour. Does he always wear that?

Regardless, he heads upstairs, but just to be safe I don't move for a while regardless. I realize I still haven't heard Lissa go anywhere yet. Maybe she's still in the mess hall doing something?

I creep over to the doorway, and chance a glance into the room. She's sitting with her back to me in one of the chairs of the massive dining table that dominates the room.

Should I say something? By now it's been long enough that I can probably pretend I only just came downstairs and never heard a thing. Maybe it would be better not to talk to her. After all, I have no idea what to make of any of it.

Frederick's own distrust is, unfortunately, pretty well-founded based on what he's seen. I can't exactly fault him for being suspicious of us if he saw the aftermath of what we did that night. After all, I really have been lying to them all this time about my origins. Still, how can I set things right? I can't very well tell them about Earth, can I?

Can I?

Not right now, no. For now it's better to dig my heels in. As much as it sucks having to lie, the truth doesn't make much sense either. Especially since I myself don't remember getting from Earth to this world regardless, so even if I tried to tell them it would probably sound more ridiculous than the Valm lie.

No, for now, the only thing to do is just to keep trucking. I decide I will talk to her.

"Hey there," I say, and I can't help but grin as she jumps in surprise.

"Gods, Randy, you scared me!" she whines, slugging me in the shoulder as I sit down next to her.

"Sorry. I was just wondering why you're up at this time of night anyway. I was having trouble sleeping, so I was just gonna walk around outside a little bit, but what's up with you?" I ask, rubbing my shoulder a little. She hits harder than she thinks she does.

"Oh, nothing," she says, looking down at the table. "There's just a lot on my mind lately. I mean, the Plegians came here, to Ylisstol, and tried to kill my big sister. If what people are saying is true, it's only because Marth intervened that we were able to save her at all. When I think about how close we were to real disaster, it just… it keeps me awake, I guess."

"I understand. Or I guess I don't exactly understand, since no one is coming after my family, but I can empathize."

"Did you know your family? Back in Valm, I mean," she asks.

Is this a test? Is she gauging my reaction to look for inconsistencies? I can't remember what exactly I told them back when I first met them…

Well, I have to say something. Maybe the only winning move is not to play. "Do you mind if I don't get into it? It might have been a while ago now, but I'd prefer to keep that under wraps."

She looks a little surprised. "Oh, uh, of course. Sorry Randy, I don't want to bring up bad memories." She does appear genuinely sorry. Maybe I misjudged her motive.

How much can I let slip? What's safe to say in this situation? "Look, I know Frederick didn't exactly trust me when I first joined the Shepherds. Sometimes I think he still doesn't trust me. I don't talk much about my past, and that's pretty much how it's going to stay. But I hope that you can still believe me when I say that I only ever act in the interest of the Shepherds."

"Why do you care so much for the Shepherds, anyway? Why did you join us?" she asks.

"I'll admit, at first it was self-interest. Traveling with a group, any group, is safer than going it alone. But then I made friends, allies. And after what the Plegians did to my friends, after what they did to Maribelle, I have a personal stake in this. You all have saved my life many times over, and now the Shepherds and I have a hell of a common enemy." I can feel my temper getting the better of me. "I might only be a healer, and I can't do much to fight the enemy directly, but I want to see Gangrel and his pals fucking eviscerated for what they've done. They reached the point of no return and just kept going. I want to play a role in taking them down, and taking them apart." I'm almost yelling by now.

I take a deep breath. Lissa can't seem to meet my eye. "I understand. I want to stop them too. We all do. Be careful, though."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't become the same sort of person that you're fighting against. Chrom is facing something similar. He wants to stand against the hate and violence that Gangrel is pushing onto others, but he's an angry person himself. It's just as hard to keep from turning into something bad as it is to fight it. Maybe even harder. I just don't want you guys to forget that."

"Of course. Don't worry about me. I just got a little fired up, is all."

She smiles a small, genuine smile. "I getcha. Anyway, I think I really am tired now. I'm gonna try to get some sleep. Thanks for talking with me, Randy."

"No problem. Good night, Lissa."

I return to bed, newly plagued with dreams of Frederick watching me at all times. It's kinda freaky. Though I guess not the worst dreams I've had since I got here.

* * *

"Alright everyone, we are moving out," Chrom declares suddenly at breakfast. "In the aftermath of the attempt on Exalt Emmeryn's life, we are moving her to the eastern palace. There, she should be safe, as the Plegians should have no knowledge of it, but she won't have to abandon her command to stay out of danger either. Once you're finished here, get to packing as quickly as you can. We would like to be on the road before noon."

Thus, life turns quickly into a flurry of movement. Everyone start packing frantically, except for of course yours truly, because I saw this coming and never really unpacked more than was strictly necessary when we got back. Instead, I sit smugly in the common area, watching with glee as the other Shepherds try to locate all their weapons and armor and other such supplies.

"You know, Randall," Vaike says as he checks under another couch for his trusty axe, "you could lend a hand with some of this. I really can't find the damn thing anywhere."

"I could," I reply, grinning evilly, "but it's quite a bit more fun to just watch you search fruitlessly."

"I'll have to keep that in mind the next time I see some guy with a sword come charging at you to lop your head off." He frowns.

"Implying you would be any help without your axe in the first place."

"Grrr, when I find that axe, it's going straight up your…" he growls, skulking off.

Gaius walks in. I realize I've never actually spoken to the thief myself yet. "Hey, Bear," he says, crossing the room toward me.

I guess that's my nickname? Better than Bubbles or Stumbles, I suppose. "Bear?" I ask.

"Yeah. Partly because you sport a woodsman's beard, and partly because I've heard that you have a habit of beating things to death with that staff of yours. Scary stuff, Bear." He smirks.

I sure hope he's referring to the Risen fight when I backed Chrom up. I don't want word of Virion's assassination adventure getting out yet. "I'll have you know, I usually use it to heal people, not dismantle them."

"Hey," he throws up his hands, "no judgment from me. Anyway, I heard Twinkles wants to see you."

"Twinkles?"

"Oh, right. Maribelle. I was sent to go get her but she says she wants to talk to you."

Wonder what that's about. "Ah, gotcha. Thanks Gaius," I say, standing up to leave.

"How'd you know my name? I never introduced myself." He crosses his arms.

"Well, I'd heard rumors of the thief with the sweet tooth that joined our ranks. And if I had to guess, based on the lollipop that's stuck to your right shoulder, I'd say that's probably you."

"So _that's_ where that went! Thanks, Bear!" he exclaims as he reaches behind him to try and get the candy unstuck from his cape. That's… kinda gross.

I decide to go see what Maribelle wants. I figure she must be in her room, so I head there. I knock and wait for an answer, but after a minute or so I decide to try elsewhere. As I start to walk away, though, the door opens.

"Oh, you're here," Maribelle says.

I turn back around. "Yeah, I am. What's up?"

"Oh, it's… nothing. I suppose I just wanted to see if you would come, is all." She shoots me a sly grin.

"Seriously? A beck and call test? We're trying to get on the road here, Mari."

She scowls at the nickname. "Well, everyone's been talking about how you've been lazing around while everyone else is getting their things together, so I thought you needed something to do."

"Right. Thanks for that."

"Anyway, since you're here, you can help me move some of these things out of here," she says, opening the door in full and revealing a small mountain of bags that need to be loaded up.

"Oh, fuck that noise," I groan, but nonetheless grab a couple bags and start hauling.

"Thank you Randy," she says in a singsong, pseudo-mocking tone.

"Have you ever called me that before?" I ask.

"What? Oh. My apologies," she says, looking down a little.

"No, no, it's good. I prefer it, really," I say, shooting her a genuine smile.

"Well, fine then. If you insist, Randy it is," she says, straightening up and following me out of the room.

It was only as she looked up then that I noticed how splotchy her face is. Has she been crying?

Wonder what that's about.

"By the way, interesting choice of hairdo."

"Look who's talking, Big Daddy's right arm."

"...I don't follow."

* * *

 **A/N: Hello again! Did you miss me? Finals are finally over, so I'm ready for a comparatively peaceful break, which will hopefully mean more content for you guys! Thought I would address a couple more reviews this time.**

 **To derpmister: Thanks very much for that lengthy review! I appreciate hearing what you like, and perhaps even more appreciated was you telling me what you wanted to see more of. As I work on this story, I am constantly searching for the balance between adequately exploring all these character relationships while also getting a move on with the plot. Hearing feedback about which end of that balancing act needs more work is always nice. I also want to thank you in particular for that tip about the suspicion of origin. I hadn't given it too much thought before your review, but as you can no doubt tell, I've got a little subplot in the works thanks to that. So thanks again!**

 **To A-Non-Knee-Moose: Go ahead and pat yourself on the back, friend; that bit with the 500 Miles was absolutely inspired by your review. I had intended to have a little scene there, but after your review I gave it a little overhaul and it felt much better afterward. Your review totally did influence the story, so thanks very much for your continued support and excellent ideas.**

 **And now to everyone still reading: if you're the type to leave a review or comment, I have a specific request this time. I'd like to know what you'd like to see more or less of as the story progresses. Of course, final say on what happens is naturally my call, but as you can tell above, sometimes my story needs a little dash of inspiration from the readers to make a scene really shine. So if you want to see something done a little differently in the future, I'd like to know your thoughts!**

 **Additionally, if anyone is interested in being a sort of beta reader, I'd like to hear from you! So far the closest thing I have is my roommate, who has never played the game and can only do so much in that regard. Thanks!**

 **As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**


	14. Ch 14: Vaike's Quest to See Some Chest

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 14: Vaike's Quest to See Some Chest**

"Did you at least check to make sure Arcturus isn't around this time?"

"GAH! Oh, it's you, Randall. What are you doing here?"

"Good question, Vaike. I was about to ask you the same thing."

"Well, I mean… isn't it obvious?"

He has a point. He's crouched behind a bush, peering over a hillside to get a good look at the little pond that's being used as a bath at the moment by, if I had to guess, Sully. I take a quick look over the bush myself. Yup, that's some red hair. For decency's sake, I look away the moment I've confirmed for myself who it is, crouching beside him.

"Isn't this a little beneath you, Vaike?" I ask, turning back to him. "I thought Robin had already caught you spying on Sully before. Shouldn't that have been enough of a clue?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" He scowls.

"Well come on, I thought you're supposed to be Teach. You know, the big man who doesn't back down from anything. But now you're slinking around like a creep instead. What gives?"

"And what do you propose I do, then, Mister Knows-It-All?" Vaike crosses his arms, clearly not fond of that wound to his pride.

"I guess that's up to you. I just think it's pretty lame to be sneaking peeks is all." I shrug.

"Well anyway, what are you doing up here then? I bet you came here to sneak a look too, and you're just upset that I got here first, so now you have to save face and pretend that I'm the only one," Vaike retorts.

"What I'm doing up here is none of your business, but I'll at least tell you it's not to gawk like a middle schooler," I say.

"...What's a middle schooler?"

God damn it, every time. "Like a kid, Vaike. Like a kid who just became aware of what girls are."

He looks stung again. "Well, that makes two of us then, because I'm not convinced that's not what you're here for too."

Looks like I don't have a choice. I have my pride to protect, after all. "Alright, fine. I'm up here location scouting, if you must know."

"Location scouting? What, like looking for the enemy or something?"

"No, not like that. I just want to find a really nice place to," I wonder why I find this so embarrassing to admit, "to stargaze from. I was thinking I would come back here when night falls. It's probably going to be a really clear, nice night."

He narrows his eyes. "Stargazing, huh? That doesn't sound much like you, Randall. At least, not something you'd care that much about. Unless…" I watch as, in slow motion, the dots connect in his head. "Unless you're gonna bring a girl up here!"

I cringe at the volume. "Not so damn loud, Vaike! Do you _want_ the whole world to hear?"

"So, dare I guess who you're thinking of bringing up?" He gives me a sly grin, using his hand to pantomime little hair drills next to his head.

I feel a little color filling my face. "Is it that obvious?"

"Please. I've been calling it since Stahl and I tricked you into joining her for a bath."

"Oh, is that what you call that incident?" I ask incredulously. "You know she was ready to kill me back then, right?"

Vaike sits back on the grass. "Randall, lemme clue you in. She's liked you from the beginning. If it had been Stahl, or Frederick, or especially the Vaike, she'd have held a grudge like no other. The only reason she got over it so quickly is because it _was_ you."

I'm taken quite aback. "You really think so?"

"Would Teach ever lead a student astray?" He winks.

"Huh…" Maybe it's not as much a longshot as I've been thinking.

"You boys sound like you're having a pretty good conversation."

Oh, shit. While we were talking, it seems Sully heard us and got the drop on us, so she now stands on the other side of the bush, glaring at us from above.

"Oh! Oh, hey Sully," I say more than a little awkwardly. "How, uh, how long have you been there?"

She shrugs, but it's a calculated movement. I now notice she's holding her lance. The woman even brings her weapons to the bath? "Long enough, I suppose. I guess my question would be, how long have _you two_ been here, and what do you think you're doing?"

"Uhh… location scouting?" I offer. She rolls her eyes.

I've never seen a redder Vaike. "W-well, if you must know, I, uh, came to, uh…" he stammers.

"Oh, this'll be good," she says, leaning on her lance.

He stands up. I do too, but now that the bush isn't there to cover her, I mind my line of sight carefully. At last, Vaike speaks. "I–I mean, after hearing Randall's story, and how he's looking to take the next step forward, I just thought… I mean, I was inspired, you know, to…" He squeezes his eyes shut. Oh boy Vaike, what are you going for here? Please try consider the context.

"To…?" Sully asks expectantly. She adjusts the grip on her lance.

"Uh, Vaike?" I warn, eyeing her lance carefully.

"To ask you ou– _Oof!_ " Vaike is interrupted with a swift smack upside the head with the bottom end of the lance. He falls to his side, clutching the side of his face.

"Absolutely not, you lecher! You seriously thought the best time to ask me out would be immediately after I catch you spying on me?" she shouts.

"Yeah, okay, looking back on it, that might not have been my most sound call ever," Vaike admits, still cradling the wound but standing back up. "But I'm serious! Go out with me!"

"I can't accept any man that feels the need to skulk around like a pervert! No way!" Sully retorts, threatening another blow. To his credit, Vaike doesn't flinch. "Ugh, just get out of here, the both of you."

I'm already leaving, but I hear that suicidal idiot say, "I'm sorry Sully, but I can't do that." Is this his attempt to get serious?

"This time, it'll be the business end," Sully says, turning the lance point on him. "Unless you get gone, and fast."

Without a second's hesitation, he says, "Yes ma'am," and starts booking it down the hill with me. So much for 'I can't do that,' then. "Let's go, Randall."

Vaike heads straight for his tent, blowing right past everyone who tries to say something to him.

Nearby, Robin looks on with mild surprise. On seeing me not far behind him, she stops me.

"What's up with that?" she asks.

I wave a hand. "Oh, just Vaike finding new, creative ways to get himself killed."

Her brow furrows. "...Sully?"

I nod. "Sully."

Her shoulders drop a little. "Ugh, that idiot. I've been trying to tell him, Sully would probably actually say yes if he knocked off all the kid stuff and actually grew up a little."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, she's said as much herself. She's just confused as to how he can be so bold and fearless on the battlefield, yet balk so consistently when it comes to women."

"I don't know if it's women in general. I think it might just be her. You gotta admit she's kinda scary," I remind her.

She strokes her chin thoughtfully. "That's true. Oh well. He'll just have to give it some time to cool off, and give her a proper apology."

I narrow my eyes. "Wait a minute. Are you playing matchmaker with those two?"

"What? No. No! I just, I don't know, I want to help my friends out! It's pretty obvious those two would be great together, don't you think?"

"I guess? They definitely work better together in the field."

"Exactly! So I'm just trying to help everyone's chances on the battlefield." She grins sheepishly.

"...Uh huh."

"A-anyway! Did you find a good spot for stargazing?" she asks quickly.

I plant a finger on her lips. She gives me an annoyed look. "Don't say that so loud. I don't want her hearing until it's time." She attempts to bite my finger, so I pull it away quickly.

"I still think you're worrying too much," she says.

"I'm a worrier, okay?" I don't even know what people normally do for dates around here. We can't exactly go to the movies, and this far between towns there's no place to take her for a dinner or anything like that. I hope Robin was right before…

* * *

 _One hour-ish earlier…_

"Hey there Tarantino," I say cheerfully, clapping Robin on the shoulder.

She yelps in surprise, nearly spilling her ink on the map on which she's drawing up plans for the continued march east.

"I still don't know what that means," she says.

"Back where I came from, he's a storyteller renowned for his bloody, gory narratives. Thought it fits you pretty well." I shrug.

"What? Why?" She looks almost hurt.

"Uh, because on the day I met you, you blasted a man's face into an electrified pulp? And in every other battle I've seen you in since then, those unfortunate enough to be on the business end of your magic usually end up a sort of red mist."

"Most of the fights you have seen me in have been fending off Risen invasions, and those turn into mist no matter how you kill them!" she protests. "Besides, _you're_ the one who stabbed a man to death with a _healing staff_!"

In a panic, I plant a finger on her mouth to shut her up. "Damnit Robin, that's supposed to be kept on the down-low, remember?"

Her eyes widen. "Oh, no! You're right, sorry." She reddens with embarrassment. It's a little adorable, if I'm being wholly honest.

I look around to make sure there aren't any nooks someone could be listening from. I turn to her and quietly say, "I should warn you, Frederick has been drumming up a little suspicion about us on that point. He actually saw us leave town that night, and he saw us come back all bloodied up, but he missed what happened in between. I think he's afraid we might have had something to do with the attempt on Emmeryn's life."

Robin is quiet for a moment. "I can't say his suspicion doesn't make sense, honestly."

"That's what I was thinking. But what can we really do?"

"Just have faith in Chrom, I guess. He's not about to turn on us without evidence. That just doesn't seem like the kind of person he is. We also need to keep an eye on Virion. He might seem like a moron sometimes, but he's sharper than anyone gives him credit for. Unlike us, he's actually worthy of a little healthy skepticism."

I raise a brow. "What makes you think I'm not colluding with the enemy behind your backs?" I ask.

"I mean, are you?"

"Well no, but why are you so convinced of that?"

She smirks. "It's not your style. Plus, if you had wanted Chrom and the others dead, it would have been as easy as just not helping us back in Southtown."

If only you knew. "Actually, I bet the four of you could've handled it."

"Well, when we had to go it without you, it sure wasn't easy."

"What?"

"Oh, I meant when you were training with Maribelle, and we had to make the trip to Ferox. I just got used to having a second healer around, is all."

"Oh, okay. Anyway, I did actually have something I wanted to ask you about."

"Sure, what's up?" she asks, taking a seat and gesturing for me to do the same.

"What do you know about dating around here? You're the only other one who came to the Shepherds totally clueless about their culture, so I'm wondering what your thoughts are."

"What about it? That's pretty vague."

"Look, it's still a little embarrassing to talk about it much, but I was thinking that maybe I might try asking Maribelle on a date, and I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing."

She looks surprised. "Oh, you're serious about that? I thought you were just having a little fun at her expense. I know that's all I was doing."

I frown. "Yes, I'm serious about it. Why does everyone seem to think I was just kidding around?"

"Who's 'everyone'?"

"Well, you and Lissa, in any event. Am I so hard to take seriously?"

"No, no! I didn't mean it like that! I'm just a little surprised." She raises her hands conciliatorily.

"Anyway, what should I do? Stahl and Kellam made it seem like dating is a pretty protracted thing, but other sources led me to think people just go for the big 'I do' right away."

"Well, I definitely haven't heard anything like that." So it looks like I can finally put that misconception away, then. "As for what you should do… hmm…" She considers for a moment. "I guess it's a little bit simple, but have you considered just asking her to go stargazing? I think the weather should hold up."

"Stargazing, huh? Doesn't sound too bad."

"I think so, anyway. Some of the closest moments I've had with people around here have been under the light of the stars."

The look on her face catches my eye. "Ooh, close moments, eh? Been having some nighttime fraternization with the captain, mayhaps? Finally gonna get him to see you as a woman?"

Her face scrunches. "No way, he's more like an awkward, annoying big brother than anything. He walked in on me taking a bath the other day, did you know that? He was so embarrassed I thought he might pass out. Oh, I guess I wasn't supposed to tell that story to anyone. Oops." She closes her eyes to refresh her mind for a moment. "But no, I meant other people."

Seems she doesn't want to share. "Alrighty, I'll take your word for it. I guess a night alone under the stars could make for a nice romantic setting. Certainly better than that Plegian hellhole we were cooped up in… It's just a matter of asking her, right?"

Picturing the actual act of asking her out sends me back into a spiral.

"Gah, but what if she says no? What if she thinks I'm creepy or something after I ask and she turns me down? I mean, she probably will turn me down, after all. She's rich, and important, and she's an expert healer, and let's be real, appearance-wise, she's waaay out of my league, and–"

It's Robin's turn to shush me. "No one is out of anyone's league. You're worrying too much. I'm sure she thinks you're great."

"Every friendzone ever starts with 'I think you're great, but…'" I deadpan.

"Without the 'but,' then! You'll be fine!" Robin retorts.

"Gaaah," I make worry noises. "Oh shit, I should find a nice spot to stargaze from then! I'll see you later, Robin!"

She giggles. "See you later!"

* * *

I see Maribelle enjoying a solitary evening cup of tea not far from the mess tent. I'm surprised she's so committed to tea that she brought the supplies for it on the caravan, especially since it's a pretty nice-looking set. She's facing away from me, which is good, because at the moment I'm a panicking mess.

"Robin, I really don't think I can do this," I hiss quietly.

"Oh come on, you found the perfect spot, it's a gorgeous night, just go for it!" she says, trying to push me forward. I resist her push and stand firm.

"But what if she says no?" I ask.

"Randall, if you don't ask her on this date right this minute, I'll make you ask Frederick on the date instead."

"I mean, he does seem like a man who'd enjoy a nice night under the–"

"Hey Maribelle!" Robin shouts, then before Maribelle has time to turn, she dives into the mess tent and out of sight.

Maribelle looks my way, eyebrows raised. "Randy, is that you? I could've sworn I heard a woman's voice." Oh, we are off to a great start.

I take a few stiff steps toward her. "I'm still not quite used to you calling me that, haha."

"Well, you did say you preferred it, after all. Is that no longer true?"

"No, it is! Just taking a bit of, uh, getting used to." I notice a small crate nearby, and I pull it over to the tiny table she's sitting at. "Mind if I grab a seat?"

"Of course. What's on your mind?" she asks.

"Oh, um, not much. How about you?" I ask, putting a huge amount of effort into preventing my voice and my legs from shaking. I would literally rather be facing down an angry Aversa at this point.

She gives an exasperated expression. "What _isn't_ on my mind lately? There's so much going on, what with the war starting in earnest, and the attempt on the Exalt's life. It seems you and I have been spending more time trying not to get killed in bloody combat than we have doing just about anything else."

"Yeah, that seems about right. But then again, that's kind of what makes this march almost a relief in a way. Sure, we have to repel some Risen here and there, but comparatively speaking, I'd say we've had a lot of time to think and breathe lately." Yes, that's good, keep that rolling.

"I would agree. Aside from how tiring it is to ride day in and day out, it's not been wholly unpleasant. Though I suppose you footsloggers are a good deal more tired by day's end, am I right?" She smirks.

I shrug. "I can admit it's a little taxing. Nothing too terrible though."

She cocks a brow. "Oh really? I distinctly recall you saying something to the effect of 'My legs have become spiritually one with the overcooked pasta Sully made for dinner last night' to Lissa earlier this week."

I feel myself redden considerably. "I mean, that was just joking around. But anyway, it's been nice to have time to get all my thoughts and stuff squared away in my head, you know?"

"I suppose?" she half-asks.

"And one thing I've been kinda thinking about is about, you know, um." Where am I going with this again? Come on, it's on the tip of your tongue, you've been thinking about it all day. You went up to the hill, blah blah blah, to find a place to look at "Stars! Yeah, I've been thinking a lot about stars."

You should probably just go ahead and kill yourself and take another stab at this.

"You've been spending the daytime, while the sun is out, thinking about… stars," she says, giving me the side-eye.

"W-well yeah, when they're not out to look at, you can only really think about them, not see them, right?" I think I feel an eyelid twitching.

"That is true, I can't disagree. Why are you thinking so much about stars, though?" She seems genuinely curious. Either that or genuinely concerned. It's kinda hard to tell.

"Because… because…" An image of Vaike getting hit in the face with a lance flits across my mind's eye. "I gotta go. Later!" My legs stand up and start walking briskly away from the table before my brain has caught up to what's going on.

"Um… bye?" she says to my back as I make a hasty retreat.

Meanwhile, Robin is still near the entrance to the mess tent, no doubt eavesdropping on our conversation. My mouth also starts moving without the brain's say-so. "Oh good, Robin, you're still here. Let's go look at some stars! Apparently I've been thinking about them a lot!" I borderline shout. I grab her by the wrist and lead her away from where I left Maribelle sitting with her tea.

Once we are a good distance away, Robin shakes off my hand. "What the hell was that?" she asks with something between incredulity and utter hilarity in her voice.

My head is in my hands. "Oh my God I have no fucking clue."

Hilarity wins out, and she starts laughing despite her efforts to hold it back. It only makes her snort, which itself makes her laugh harder. "Well hey, the night is young. You could give it another go."

I glare at her. "You kidding? I should probably avoid talking to her for the next like week or so after that display."

She shrugs, still grinning like a jackass. "Half kidding, I guess. But hey, at least you got started before your nerve gave out."

I resist the urge to smack my head against something. "Uuuugh, now what? I feel like a total idiot." I take a seat (well, really it's more like I fall ass-first) on the ground.

"Well, I wouldn't say you looked like a _total_ idiot…"

"Robin, you're gonna catch this backhand here in a second."

She raises her hands in preemptive surrender. "Hey, it'll be fine. You were right; just give it some time to cool off and it'll all work out just fine. I still think that if you were to actually ask, she'd say yes. It's just a matter of getting it more or less right when you finally do."

I sigh. "Yeah, maybe. I still don't know what to do with myself now, though. I haven't embarrassed myself that thoroughly since I was a teenager."

Her expression softens a little. "I'm sure I had plenty of mortifying experiences myself back before I met the Shepherds. And frankly, between you and another young man who tried his luck today, I'd say you came out slightly less burnt.

That draws a laugh out of me. "Also fair." I take a few deep breaths. "I think I'm fine. Probably. Aside from the nagging urge to hurl myself off a cliff, but I'm sure that'll pass too."

"Well, we'll see. In the meantime, come on." She extends a hand to me.

"Come on what? I already said I wasn't going to try again tonight."

"Not that, dummy. But I want you to show me the place you picked out." She smiles genuinely.

I take her hand and allow her to help me up. "What, the place I was gonna take Maribelle?"

"Yeah! Just because the actual date part didn't work out, doesn't mean you didn't pick a good spot for it. And the stars aren't in any hurry either. Come on, it'll take your mind off it."

I consider for a moment. "You know what? Alright. It'll be better than stewing in misery, in any case."

She frowns. "I'm glad my company is marginally better than embarrassed solitude."

I wave a hand. "Whatever, you know what I meant. Come on, it's not too far from here."

* * *

To my credit, I will say I did pick a pretty badass spot. The far side of the hill is secluded in spirit without actually being too far from where the gang set up camp, and while it's flanked by a few stray trees here and there, the spot I chose is in the middle of a small clearing, so the view of the sky is top-notch. It's also a really nice night, so the sky is clear and the air is mercifully cool for this time of midsummer. The perfect setting for a date.

If only the company were as perfect.

"So okay, we _could_ take the main road through this pass here, but that would force us to deal with watching ourselves on multiple fronts, since there's high ground on the north side of the pass, and steep slopes to the south. We'd be dealing with a potential pincer ambush, jamming us between a figurative rock and a hard place, and aside from putting Sumia or some of the Exalt's pegasus guard in the air, we'd have no way of checking it out while keeping on the move. Of course, we _could_ do that, but if a supposed ambush party were to have archers in their company, they would be sitting ducks and we wouldn't be able to help them, stuck in the bottom of the pass. So I've been looking through some alternate routes. Well okay, maybe more than 'some' now that I think about it…"

"I still can't believe you brought your map with us."

"Randall, not all of us can afford to laze around and romance duchesses all night. I need to decide on a final route for us soon, since if the weather holds up again we should get to the entrance of this pass sometime tomorrow."

"I know, I know. But like, you're killing the mood here a little."

She looks up from the map for a moment. "What, are you trying to create a mood here?"

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Not what I meant. You wanted me to show you the spot I'd picked out, but your face has been jammed into that map pretty much the whole time we've been here."

"Hey, at least I'm including you in my strategizing. It's a sign of trust!"

"Can't imagine why you'd want me involved."

She shrugs. "You've got an instinct for this stuff, I can tell. Maybe not as strong as mine." A pause. "Yes, definitely not as strong as mine. But a second opinion helps, and I can barely drag one out of Chrom to save our lives. He prefers to leave it all to someone else."

"What makes you think I don't?"

She taps her temple. "Woman's intuition. Anyway, if you're so hell-bent on me staring at the stars, then help me pick a route for tomorrow!"

I sigh. "Fine. The way you describe it, the risk involved in just going for the pass involved a lot of ifs. I think we'll be fine just going through. It's not a really long pass, regardless. Let's just go for it."

"You think so?" she asks, starting to roll up the map slowly.

"Yes, I think so. Now look! I swear I just saw a shooting star!" I point frantically at the sky.

"Really?" She looks up too. Finally.

We both sit silently, staring at the sky and daring it to drop another one.

Waiting.

Waiting.

"Aha! There goes another one! Fuck yeah! Didja see it?" I ask.

She giggles at my excitement. "Yes, I saw it."

"Now make a wish!"

"Huh?"

"Oh. I don't know about Ylisse, but back where I'm from, when you see a shooting star, you're supposed to make a wish on it."

"Really? Why?"

I pause a moment. "I don't really know, actually. It's just a thing we did. Oh, and you can't tell anybody what you wish for, or else it'll never come true."

She laughs. "I doubt mine would come true regardless."

"Ooh, sounds juicey. What is it?" I ask.

"...You literally just said that you're not supposed to tell anyone," she deadpans.

"Well yeah, but if you don't think it'll happen anyway, what's the harm?"

"Well it _might_ , though! I don't want to mess up my chance," she says, grinning with me at the childishness of it all.

"That's fair, I suppose. Keep your wish, then."

We sit for a while longer, basking in the light of the stars. I wonder faintly if folks around here bothered to think of constellations too. Maybe I'll have to come up with some myself.

Beside me, Robin yawns.

"Well, I'm sorry for being such dull company," I tease.

She rolls her eyes. "I'm just getting a little tired, is all. I do like it out here though. You picked a good spot, Randall. I'm sure she'd have liked it."

"I thought coming out here was supposed to take my mind off that whole disaster for a bit." I scowl.

"Well, did it?"

"...Huh. I guess it did."

"Well there you go. That's all I promised, after all." She looks pretty smug over there.

"In that case, thank you for that, then," I say.

"Anyway, we should get back. It's getting late, and we've a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

"Good idea."

I stand up and turn to help Robin to her feet. As she stands uphill from me, she's almost as tall as me. Noticing the same thing, she takes a step back and cranes her neck back. "So that's what the top of your head looks like. I had only heard rumors."

"Oh, come off it. Let's go."

"Fine, fine."

The walk back is uneventful, and by the time we get back to camp, it looks like pretty much everyone has gone to bed already. We come to a stop in front of her tent. Robin turns to face me.

"You know, considering it wasn't even supposed to be me joining you, I still had fun. Sometimes I need someone to remind me to take a breather. I get so into my planning and all… I guess I just wanted to thank you."

I cock an eyebrow. "I'm not sure if it counts, considering you did a fair amount of planning our march regardless."

She pouts at me. "Fine then. Good night, Randall."

I laugh as she ducks into her tent. "Good night, Robin." She might not have me under some socially-stunted spell like Maribelle, but I appreciate how easy she is to be around. I can see why someone like that would be able to support everyone in the army.

I still think she's playing matchmaker with some of these pairings, though.

* * *

The next day around noontime, the group reaches the entrance to the pass. I head up to the front of the pack to get a better look, and as everyone starts heading into the pass I realize why it looks so familiar here.

"Hey captain, what's this pass called again?" I ask Chrom, who also makes a habit out of walking near the front of the group.

"I think it's called Breakneck Pass. Let's hope the trip doesn't live up to the name, haha."

"Haha, yeah."

Oh fuck. I really should have paid closer attention to that map.

* * *

 _The rumor has been spreading around the caravan all morning. Someone saw someone who said they saw Robin and Randy coming back to camp well after dark, just the two of them, talking and laughing. Not that it bothers me, of course. Each of them can associate with whomever they please at whatever time they please, and it's no business of mine. I do wonder what he was going on about yesterday evening, though. Was he perhaps…? No, best not to dwell on it too much. Gods above, this march really does give one's mind too much time to wander…_

* * *

 _The rumor has been spreading around the caravan all morning. Someone reported that an associate of theirs spotted Robin and Randall skulking about after dark, far away from anyone at camp, and that they were speaking in quiet, conspiring tones. This bothers me greatly. I will need to take greater care to keep an eye on the pair of them in the future. After all, if knowledge of the eastern palace falls into Plegia's hands, this entire expedition will have been for naught. For the time being, the pair of them are on probation as far as I am concerned. As much as I am loathe to go against milord's wishes, there are times when he is simply too trusting not only for his own good, but the good of the halidom at large. Fortunately for him, he has his steadfast knight to keep watch over any shady characters in our midst. I must protect Em –ahem– Lady Emmeryn at all costs, on my honor as a knight._

* * *

 **A/N: You know I'm getting into this story when I actually, physically stressed myself out writing that scene with Randall and Maribelle. Asking girls out is a nerve-wracking business, even in a fictitious setting where you dictate the outcome apparently! Hope you guys had fun with this one. It's unlikely I'll have another one up before Christmas, so Merry Christmas to all you lovely readers! As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**


	15. Ch 15: I Finally Meet My Waifu

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 15: I Finally Meet My Waifu**

I'm not gonna lie, I've kinda moved straight past worrying about the impending attack and have already started preparing myself to go through all this again. Knowing that I've already handled this in pretty much the worst way possible so far by walking us right into what I know is going to be an ambush, I just kind of want to die and get it over with so that I can tell Robin we should avoid the pass. Though how the hell am I going to do that? Just last night I told her it would probably be fine if we took the pass. But if we can avoid this fight, why wouldn't we? Isn't that maybe why I'm here? Prevent damage whenever possible?

 _Stick to the script._

Yeah, but that's already been demonstrably a crock of nonsense anyway. How many times has my situation made it impossible to stick to the script entirely? I'm starting to think Mr. Future Randy doesn't have a firm grasp on how things work around here.

"You alright there, Randall?" I hear a distinctly Southern-sounding voice ask nearby as we march. I turn to look at Donnel, who is walking up to my side. He looks better with the bronze-colored helmet currently adorning his head in place of the pot, I will say. "You look a little on edge."

He's not lying. I'm gripping my Mend staff tightly, knuckles whitening from the strain. I'm constantly looking from this bush to that boulder to that vaguely-shaped shadow, just daring something to jump out. I bet it drives up people's heart rate just looking at me. Even if I'm counting on dying, I'm still not looking forward to it. Like playing through a horror game and even knowing you've made a wrong turn, you're still on edge waiting for the monster to jump out.

"Yeah, I'm all aces. Just keeping an eye out for anything unusual," I say in as level a voice as possible.

"You don't normally seem the type to get so worked up. Didn't have you pegged for a worrier," Donnel says. "You're usually all smiles and jokes."

He should've seen me last night. "Haha, you might be surprised. This pass is wigging me out though," I say, forcing a laugh. Gotta take my mind off this somehow. This kind of mental strain just isn't healthy. I briefly consider the not-far-off cliff, but something about leaping off the cliff myself just doesn't seem right somehow. Maybe it's because technically nothing has gone wrong yet?

"You guys doing alright?" I hear Lissa ask behind us, sounding quite out of it. "Cuz I'm dying over here with all this walking. Either of you strapping young men want the honor of carrying a princess and giving her poor little feet a rest?"

I'm preparing to lay a roast on the girl, but the Don starts talking first. "Oh, o' course I will, Princess Lissa. Hop aboard! If you don't mind, that is," and he takes a half-squatting position to let her on his back.

"Hey Donny, I think she might have been kidding," I say, holding back laughter.

"I sure wasn't! Woohoo!" Lissa declares, hopping on his back without a moment's hesitation. Impressively, he doesn't buckle at all, and he can keep the same pace as before.

Lissa notices me giving her a disappointed look. "What? I'm tired, okay?"

I raise my hands. "I didn't say anything."

She narrows her eyes. "You might as well have. A look can say a lot, y'know."

I smirk. "Believe what you will, I guess."

"Hmph." She makes a show of turning her head away from me, whipping Donnel's head with one of her twin tails in the process. The juggernaut remains undaunted. "So whatcha guys talking about?"

"Randall was saying that he don't like the look of this place," Donnel says.

"What for?" Lissa asks, her prior irritation apparently already forgotten. "Aside from the possibility of some bandits or something, there shouldn't be anyone out this far east, right?"

How to put this? I guess I can just parrot what Robin was saying last night. "It's not as much that I think we'll run into anyone, as much as if we ran into anyone here, this is a really disadvantageous place for it to happen."

"I guess…" Lissa says.

I find that I'm getting pretty tired of explaining why we're gonna get attacked to people who won't remember the conversation in the first place, but at the same time I don't really want to talk about much else, for pretty much the same reason. I let Donnel outpace me and fall back a little in the pack.

It only hits me now how much of a bummer it is marching with people who will end up just doing this again, having conversations that won't really count. I don't really feel like talking to anyone anymore. The others pass one or two at a time, and I'm a little surprised how quickly I can recognize the Shepherds just by the backs of their heads. Well, except that guy. Don't really recognize him.

Wait. Who is that? The dude in the official robes and tacky hat… Oh! It's that hierarch guy! He's the one who sells the Ylissean position out in the first place! I can't believe I forgot about him. What a dickhead.

In fact, he might just be the best pastime going around here. In what I'm now considering the 'real run' of this, I won't talk with him at all, but if I fuck with him a little now, no one will remember, after all. I'll admit, I grin a little evilly.

As I approach from behind and to the left, it's pretty clear he's already a nervous wreck. He's wringing his hands and pretty evidently sweating clean through his robes. If I didn't know he's got a lot to be feeling nervous about, I'd almost pity the sight.

As it stands, I walk up behind him and clap him, not gently, on the shoulder, earning a satisfying yelp from him. "Hey there! My name's Randall, what's yours?"

He collects himself for a moment, and shrugs off my hand on his shoulder. "Uhm, my name is Aventine. I'm an advisor to the Ylissean court. Can I help you with something?"

I shrug nonchalantly. "Nah, not really. I was just sort of thinking we should be friends. Don'tcha think so?"

He glances around. "I… suppose." He narrows his eyes, trying to see what I'm up to. Joke's on him, though. I'm just making this up as I go.

"So, if we're gonna make friends, I think we should get to know each other. Let's share some secrets. I'll start: sometimes I only brush my teeth once a day, and go to bed without doing it. What about you? Got a secret you'd like to share?" I say, my voice dripping with saccharine venom.

What can I say? Subtlety isn't exactly my specialty.

It has the desired effect, though: he looks more nervous than ever. "I-I don't think that's…" He falters, unsure what to say.

I wrap an arm tightly around his shoulder. "Hey, that's no problem, buddy. After all," and I drop my voice to the lowest, most threatening voice I can manage, "I already know your secret." I can feel him flinch. "We're not the only people on this pass today, are we, Lord Aventine?" All of my bitterness about having to do this again is being pointed squarely at this poor guy.

He's pretty plainly shuddering now. "H-how do you know any of this? You can't p-prove it! Not at all!"

I bark a short, sadistic laugh. "Your reaction already says plenty. You're waiting on a detachment of Plegian wyvern riders to ambush us, taking you into their care. Am I wrong?"

"Y-you… How…" Aventine looks almost childlike now. He's fortunate that the caravan has mostly either moved past us or is otherwise ignoring us as we speak quietly off to the side.

"The 'how' isn't important, my lord," I say. "I know a lot of things. More than you, I'd wager. For example, that leader of the wyvern riders, what was his name? I think it was Vasto. Anyway, I happen to know that regardless of whatever arrangement he made with you, his actual plan is different. Do you want to know what it is?"

"W-what are you talking about?" I can't tell whether he's playing dumb or if he's responding sincerely at this point.

I lean in closer. "He has no intention of taking a traitor like you into his care. Wasting time and resources on making sure you make it back safely? On a man who's proven by this very plan that even years of service mean nothing to him? No. He's going to cut you down and cast you into the bottom of the canyon, just like the rest of us."

"You're lying!" Aventine shouts, then remembers himself and quiets down. "I made a deal with that man, and the Plegians that serve under General Mustafa always keep their word."

General Mustafa? Now that is interesting. As I recall, he's the one that wants to stop the fighting between the countries if possible. I wonder why he would be behind a plot like this.

"Well, believe what you want, I guess. But as you're falling off that cliff, clutching at your new axe wounds, just know that I was right," I say nonchalantly.

"Gentlemen." A metal-clad hand grips my shoulder. I recognize that voice. "You're beginning to fall behind. Please take care to keep up," Frederick says. Am I imagining that icy tinge to his voice? Probably not.

"Right you are, Freddie. Let's get the lead out, Lord Aventine," I say, brightening my tone and standing up straight again.

The heirarch looks positively terrified. "O-of course. Actually, I just remembered, I left some very important documents at the last campsite. I must go and get them. I will catch up with you gentlemen later on."

As he starts to scurry off, Frederick calls after him. "Wait, my lord! It's unsafe to go alone! Let me accompany you!"

Aventine stops, nervously fiddling with his fingers. "No need, Sir Frederick. I will be fine on my own for a few hours. And I will move much more quickly on my own. Plus, you're needed at Lord Chrom's side. I wouldn't want to separate the pair of you."

Frederick's eyes narrow so slightly that I feel it rather than see it. "All true, but it won't do to have a man of your standing left by himself in the elements like this. Allow one of the guards to accompany you, my lord."

Seeing that he's not going to be able to change his mind, Aventine lets out a shaky sigh. "So be it, sir."

Frederick looks over his shoulder and whistles at one of the pegasus knights mounted by the Exalt's carriage. Her pegasus trots over obediently. "You called, Sir Frederick?" the young rider sitting atop the pegasus asks.

"I did. Lord Aventine believes he has misplaced some documents at last night's campsite. I want you to accompany him there and see to it that once his documents are in order, he is brought safely back to us. Understood?"

Something about the way he said that makes it sound like what he really meant was "don't let him sneak off," but that could also just be me. Probably not.

The rider, on the other hand, seems to suspect nothing. "Understood, sir!" She salutes and rides over to the heirarch. "Want to hop aboard, my lord? As long as we don't take to the sky, ole Cassie here should be able to take both of us."

Aventine laughs nervously. "Sounds...good! Let's be off, quickly." He awkwardly clamors up behind her, and she giggles as he actively tries to touch her as little as humanly possible. They trot off without any further delay.

Which leaves me alone with Frederick. Great. His hand reappears on my shoulder. "Mister Randall, I wasn't aware you and Lord Aventine know each other."

"Well, that would be because we don't. We just met today."

"Is that so? The pair of you seemed awfully close before I walked over."

"I was just trying to assuage his worries about coming through the pass. He was pretty anxious about it."

"A noble gesture. Why was he anxious?"

I gesture around. "Lots of places for enemies to hide. Plus, if you don't mind my saying so, I think there was something he wasn't telling me."

Frederick's response is sharp. "Watch yourself, Randall. You're speaking about a member of the High Counsel and a close friend of the Exalted family."

Looks like regardless of his own apparent misgivings, he still doesn't like me making the same speculation. I raise my hands. "Hey, just something I noticed is all. I'm not saying he was lying or anything like that. Maybe just that we should keep an eye out."

"It was already my intention to have everyone 'keep an eye out,' thank you very much," Frederick replies. "I already oppose the idea of going through this pass, regardless of Robin's orders. However, it won't do to raise suspicion about those closest to us. Especially when there are so many other, lesser known quantities at play."

Great. He trusts the actual traitor more than he trusts me. I'm so flattered.

"Right. Well, I'll be sure to, uh, remain diligent, then." The weight of his gaze feels like a sodden blanket over my shoulders as I shuffle off to rejoin the others. I feel his eyes on my back as he gets back on his horse.

Eventually I catch up with the medical supply wagon. Walking alongside the wagon is Maribelle's horse Fleur-de-lis, keeping pace dutifully with the wagon. Even though last night went less than perfectly, I don't want things between her and me to get truly weird, so once I get to the back of the wagon, I get a quick running start and hop in, just barely managing not to get caught on the hem of my own robe.

Doesn't stop me from falling on my face inside the wagon though. I land with a _thud_ on the wooden floor. In front of the wagon, I hear one of the pair of horses pulling the wagon snort in light protest.

Just as I thought, the troubadour is sitting inside, apparently taking inventory of something or other. She gasps as I startle her with my entrance. "Randy? What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know," I say, scrambling to my feet. "Just thought I'd drop in."

She giggles a pitying laugh. "Is that so? Well, I welcome the company. It's a long ways yet to the Eastern Palace."

"Whatcha doing in here?" I ask, sitting beside her on a long, low supply crate, no doubt housing more staves.

"Taking inventory of the staves at our disposal while there's time to do so. Better to do it now than later when there will be better things to do." She taps the clipboard in her hand with the tip of her quill. I only just now notice the bottle of ink balancing on her thigh. Good Lord that's dangerous. That outfit is _white_ , and that ink is waaaay black. Looks like she's got a lot of faith in her balance after her how-to-be-a-proper-lady classes of her youth.

"Sounds like exciting stuff," I say with mock enthusiasm.

She rolls her eyes. "Hardly. Menial tasks that honestly I would prefer leaving to the help, but if something comes up on the trail, like bandits or some such, it is much better to know. Anyway, the only unusuality here is that a few Rescue staves are missing from the stock."

I rub the back of my head. "Actually, I might have some explanation for that…"

She turns to look at me again. "You? You mean to say that you're… already learning to…"

I grin sheepishly. "Guilty as charged."

I can't read that expression. "I… but you… I can't…" She collects herself. "It's good that you're learning to use them. I hadn't known you've started already. I suppose Lissa has been the one teaching you?"

"Yeah, that's right. I've gotten a pretty good start, but I'm nowhere near ready to use them on the fly like she does," I say honestly. Despite how excited I'd been to have a one-up on her, I suddenly don't want to rub her face in it. I decide not to bring up that she herself can't use them.

"I'm glad that you're learning," she says after a moment. "It's good to see you're taking your education seriously. It shows that I didn't put my effort toward a lost cause."

"Is that a worry you've had?" I ask.

She gives a sly smile. "Well, considering that in every major battle the pair of us has seen together, you take a blast of dark magic to the chest and get taken out of commission, it was honestly starting to feel like ill-invested time."

I place a hand on my chest in mock-horror. "Why, Lady Maribelle! To joke about such grim matters!"

Despite that I was clearly joking, something in my statement clicks in her head, and her smile cracks. "Oh. Um, you're right, of course. My apologies."

"Uh, Mari? I was kidding," I say cautiously.

"No, I know that," she says quickly. "It's just that even so, you're right. I oughtn't have joked about such things. You did nearly die on both occasions, after all. It was unkind to joke about them." By now she's well and truly ruined her own good mood.

I consider for a moment whether it's appropriate, then decide to throw caution to the wind and place my arm around her shoulder. She doesn't shrug me off. "Hey, no worries! I'm still here, after all. Joking about some of this stuff is the best way to make sure you keep sane through it all, right?"

She very obviously forces a smile. "You're right. I'm sorry I spoiled the good cheer."

I give her shoulder a squeeze. "Hey, you know me. My good cheer is a lot harder to dent than that." I feel some of the tension leave her body.

She chuckles. "That's true. You've always been, if anything, too light-hearted." She recaps her ink bottle and sets it aside, then stands up, and I let my arm drop. "Regardless, you had better be careful with Rescue staves, no matter how much training you get in. They remain constantly tricky to use. Or so I'm told," she adds with a sidelong glance in what I assume is Lissa's direction.

Suddenly, the wagon stops. Once the rumbling of the wheels stops, I can hear shouting up ahead. Has the battle started?

The flaps of the tent open, and there's Lissa, looking exceedingly worried. "Come on, you two! We have to get moving, now! Plegians are attacking the caravan! Let's go!" She scrambles inside, grabbing a couple staves and hopping back out.

"Let's move," Maribelle and I say to each other, each grabbing a staff and making for the back of the wagon. However, just as Maribelle hops out to mount Fleur-de-lis, I pause for a moment. Making a split-second decision, I reach over and grab a Rescue staff as well. I had forgotten when I was talking to Maribelle that I intend for this to be a practice run, but when she mentioned getting in more training with the Rescue staves, that put me back in my prior mindset.

Normally I wouldn't dream of using a Rescue staff with this little practice under my belt, but if I'm going back regardless, that just makes this an opportunity to practice my technique more with no permanent consequences.

I strap the Rescue to my back and hop out. Maribelle has already advanced up the field, so I start making my way to the front alone.

Looks like the battle is already going strong. I've been briefly exposed to wyvern riders before, but with this many afield, it's like seeing them for the first time all over again. To recap: they're massive, loud, super scary, and their individual wing flaps alone make formidable gusts of wind. In a pass this precarious, even that is something to consider.

It looks like Lissa is taking care of the northern troops, and Maribelle has taken her place in the middle of the pass, which leaves me with the south side. You know, closest to the cliff. Fun stuff.

"Oh good, Randall, you're here," I hear a voice somewhere say, and I realize with a start that it's Kellam, and he was right in front of me. "I've been doing my best to take the brunt of their arrows to save the pegasus riders, but they eventually took their toll." I force my eyes to focus, and indeed, he's got like half a dozen arrows lodged in various gaps in his armor. I help him lie down on the ground so that I can begin.

Ultimately, I can't get many of these arrows out while his armor is still on, so I have no choice but to strip off piece after piece of his steel plate. As more and more opens up, I can get at the arrows and close the wounds, but the whole process takes several minutes, and even once I'm done, he's now only wearing like half of his armor. So even if he's safe, he's still out of commission for a while.

While he gathers up his plate pieces and starts shuffling to the back line to put it back on, I rush forward to see who else needs help. Hopefully, someone in need of a Rescue, maybe, hmm?

Looks like most of my charge is Donnel and Stahl now, with Miriel relatively safe in the backfield. As I approach, Miriel asks, "Is Kellam unharmed? Well, I suppose it would be more accurate to ask if the harm that befell him has been reversed."

"In either case, yeah. He's gonna be fine," I reply, passing her to get to the melee guys and see if they've got healing that needs doing.

"Thank you," I hear her say as I pass.

Up on the front line, Stahl is taking most of the hits from his armored mount while Donnel is stuck with the unpleasant task of finishing off the guys that Stahl knocks off-balance. It's a pretty good system, except that it involves Stahl taking a lot of punishment. Luckily, that's where I come in. Without saying anything, I use my Mend staff to close up some of the wounds on him after he knocks the last guy in this wave off the cliff.

He brings his horse around to get a better look at me. "Oh, Randall! Thanks for that. Good of you to join us at last!"

"Sorry I took so long; Kellam was pretty well perforated when I got to him," I reply.

He looks embarrassed; I assume he hadn't noticed. "Oh. Is he alright?"

"He is now," I say, waving a hand. "Let's get back to it."

Stahl nods, and the four of us advance upfield. Unfortunately, being the southernmost detachment, we're the first to receive the sudden onslaught from the wyvern riders that had been waiting on the other side of the canyon, and they choose now to strike.

With his superior movement and sword advantage, Stahl takes this attack in stride, parrying and redirecting axe swings with relative ease. Miriel too seems to be able to handle herself well; whenever a rider tries to take a swing at her, she usually dodges handily and counters with a magic fireball to the back as they pass.

The only one to worry about is Donnel. For starters, he's working against a weapon disadvantage as his stabbing tool doesn't help much with countering their strikes while also keeping his arms out of the axe's path. He's also thoroughly untrained with fighting airborne enemies, with only the brief battle with Orton's army under his belt to that end. This leaves him feeling pretty unconfident, evidenced by the pants-shittingly terrified look on his face. The same rider keeps looping around and taking swing after swing at him, and he is usually left diving for safety on the ground or otherwise taking hits that I am quickly closing up for him. Still, despite the concentrated effort I'm putting into taking care of him, I can tell he's gonna run out of steam soon.

Still, the attacker doesn't let up, and it's looking like this next attack might go for the throat. I wonder briefly if this is a situation where a Rescue is appropriate, but before I can come to a decision, a red and white blur comes flying in from the west and smashes the rider off his mount and into the canyon. The mount itself, no doubt trained to do so, follows the rider down, despite the massive wound he sustained.

Of course, I understand what that blur was. It's my waifu, come to save us.

That's right, Cordelia is absolutely best girl. I marry her in basically every playthrough and haven't regretted it once. The perfectionist violin-playing dork who only signed on for the pegasus corps because she's a poor runner. The woman with access to Galeforce, Armsthrift, Sol, Vengeance, Tomebreaker, Lifetaker, and more. The super cutie with loooong red hair and a smile that melts my heart.

And now she's landing in front of us. "Trouble from behind! We must keep pressing forward to keep ahead of the reinforcements behind us!" Honestly, I only half hear it though. I'm more stunned by the image of her astride her pegasus, with her hair shining in the afternoon sun and waving gently in the wind.

I glance at Donnel, and he looks about as starstruck as I feel. "Wow," he says quietly.

I elbow him lightly in the ribs. "Hey Donny. Dibs," I half-whisper.

"W-what?" he sputters. "No way! I– that's not–!"

"What are you two talking about!? We have to keep moving!" Cordelia shouts, snapping us back to reality. She takes back to the sky with a massive _whoosh_ , and the gust just about knocks us over.

With Cordelia's help, the fliers become much more manageable. She keeps that at a controlled altitude, low enough that they're always in range of Miriel's fire, which weakens them considerably. Soon, the whole southern party is decimated.

Just in time for us to be greeted by another party from the east. Fantastic. Looks like the fight still isn't over.

This time, there's ground troops as well as wyverns, so Stahl and Donnel are kept busy on the ground while Miriel does her best to balance support on the ground with support in the air for Cordelia. I heal our ground troops when there's the chance, but there's not much that can be done for Cordelia all the way up there, even though she is taking quite a few hits from the wyvern riders she's juggling. No real opportunities to Rescue anyone, either, which is lightly disheartening.

Suddenly, a much faster rider in different armor comes flying through and very nearly smashes Cordelia off her mount. That must be Vasto. By the look of things, he certainly earned his role, as his technique is admittedly keeping Cordelia very much on her heels as she tries to keep pace. He makes use of the weapon advantage, taking wide swings and avoiding any position that would give her a chance to lunge, usually sticking to her flanks or behind her while she desperately tries to maneuver away.

Still, the superior speed of the wyvern shows, and soon he's behind her with no sign of her being able to turn around or drop quickly. I glance down and see that Miriel is distracted with the troops on the ground, so she's not going to be able to help either. Without a miracle, Cordelia is going to be knocked into the canyon for sure.

I remember my Rescue staff. I pull it out and point it straight at her, frantically running the calculation in my head of how much I have to move and approximately what position her legs are in on either side of her pegasus. I'd really prefer not to take any limbs off, even in practice.

Just when I think I've got the spell ready and start casting, she does the impossible and her mount drops extremely quickly. I realize too late that her pegasus just literally flapped its wings up to accelerate down more quickly, and is now ducked into a full dive. Fortunately, she's got the whole canyon's depth to recover from that move.

Unfortunately, my spell is still going through. Only now that space is occupied by the wrong person altogether. A flash of light follows, and then another flash right in front of me.

"GYAAAAAAAGH!"

That would be Captain Vasto. Well, most of him, anyway. Of course, I was calculating to move a person considerably smaller than him and in a slightly different position, and it shows. In the form of about half of his left leg and most of his left arm being missing. The moment that he landed, his leg buckled, forcing him to fall to the ground.

He looks terrified, disoriented, and in incredible pain. I don't blame him. It wasn't a clean job. He screams for another moment while his mount flies around for a moment, confused as to where its master went.

His eyes focus on me. "GRR, YOU IDIOT!" he barks, and then there's an axe buried in my side. I gasp sharply in sudden pain, and instinctively kick out, clocking him in the face and making him let go of the axe. I glance up and see the others far enough ahead of us that I'm pretty solidly on my own.

I notice how close we are to the cliff. Despite the pain in my side, I grab him by the half-leg and drag him over while he howls in pain. However, when I start trying to toss him off, his right hand catches the handle of the still-buried axe in my side and pulls, hard, searching for a lifeline. Instead, all it does is knock me off balance and send me stumbling to the edge myself. It also hurts a whole hell of a lot, but adrenaline mostly takes care of that as I realize I am about to be pulled into the abyss.

" _Randy!_ " someone shouts as we go over.

Despite this always having been my plan, I'm still scared enough to scream like a girl as the pair of us start plummeting into the canyon. I hit an outcropping of rock as we go, slowing me enough that we get separated and also almost certainly breaking something, but still not stopping me. Just as I start to speed up to a concerning rate again, though, I'm hit with a massive force from the side.

Oh, it's you, my darling waifu. "Are you alright?" Cordelia asks with genuine concern as we start making our way up to the top of the canyon again, with me held more or less bridal style in her lap.

"Oh, I'm aces. Just figured I'd, you know, drop in," I manage to say for the second time today. Vision's starting to blur. Wait, no! No, that's literally the one thing that can't happen. "Hey, Cordelia. Drop me," I sputter.

"Nonsense. Hyperion can take the weight," she replies. "Just hold on."

I squirm as best I can. "No, you don't understand. I… I have to…" It starts to hurt too much to talk, and my strength is fading fast.

It's too late anyway; we land on the ground, and when I look up, there's a very concerned Maribelle, holding her staff over me. I feel that familiar sting of wounds closing, and I can once again feel my strength fading. No, no! I can't manage to say anything as darkness closes in.

* * *

I sit up the moment consciousness returns. There's Maribelle again, but it looks like we're in a tent of some sort. No, actually we're in the medical supply wagon, I realize.

"Shit, shit!" I shout immediately.

"What?" she yelps, clearly startled and afraid.

"The battle! Is it still going?" I demand.

"No, it's finished. Just a little bit ago. Cordelia is giving her report, last I checked."

"Is everyone okay? No one's harmed?" I am unable to control my volume. I was not prepared for this possibility.

She gestures with her hands, lowering them with palms down to try to quiet and calm me. "It's alright, Randall. Nothing serious. No one on our side was lost, thank the gods."

I let out the biggest sigh I've ever taken. In. Out. In. Out.

"Okay. Thank you," I say, getting to my feet.

"Randy, wait! You shouldn't move around so quickly!" Maribelle protests, but I'm already halfway out the wagon.

Not too far away, there's Chrom and the others, arguing with Emmeryn about whether she's going to go back to Ylisstol. By the sound of it, that argument is nearing its conclusion.

"Walking to your own death will not bring peace to anyone! Ylisse needs you. _We_ need you! Be selfish for once in your life!" Chrom shouts.

I have to intervene somehow. I can change things. Chrom is right; she's walking into a pointless deathtrap and it's going to make for a pointless choice later when she has to kill herself. Well, pointless outside of the fact that it demoralizes the Plegian army, anyway.

Actually, I guess that isn't pointless at all. There's merit to that sacrifice.

Is there really nothing that I can do, though? Is this what Old Man Randy meant when he suggested that I stick to the script? That I wouldn't really have much of a choice, and I should get used to it?

I look at the Exalt, standing so tall and firm in her decision to go back. She must know it's a deathtrap too. She's going anyway.

I look at Chrom and Lissa, looking as if it's taking every fiber of their strength not to tackle their big sister and hold her down to keep her here with them. They won't do it anyway.

I look at the Shepherds, most of whom are standing nearby and watching the exchange from a polite distance, but still in earshot. Despite their love for their captain, they won't act either.

There's Ricken, jumping up and down in the back of the pack, trying to see his idol. He shouldn't have to see this, not when it's going to haunt him later when she has to jump off a cliff to save his and everyone else's life. I remember not too long ago, playing with those wind magic sheets and pretending like we weren't in the middle of a war.

Wait… The magic sheets that throw the caster backwards as well as the target.

Those basic, easy to use magic sheets. And Emmeryn is a sage, already skilled in magic.

I check the pocket of my robe. Yes! Still there! Screw you, Future Randy, I'm gonna change the script all I like! I pull out one of the sheets as Emmeryn starts to walk away. I skirt around the crowd of Shepherds and run after her as she's leaving. I catch up to Emmeryn just as she's getting on the back of Phila's pegasus.

"Exalt Emmeryn!" I call, and she turns to look at me.

"Ah, yes. Randall, was it?" she asks, looking a little puzzled.

"That's right. I'm not going to try to stop you, but there's something you should have. It's really important," I say, panting a little as I try to catch my breath from running after her.

"What is it?" she asks sincerely. Somehow, I think she might actually be receptive to this crazy idea.

I press one of the wind magic sheets into her hands. "You will need to have this. I don't have time to explain why, or how, but I know it. Can you please, please promise me that you'll keep it on your person at all times, no matter what? You'll know the moment when you'll need to use it, I'm confident."

She glances at the sheet, then turns it over, as if expecting more. Seeing nothing of note, she looks at me, and if she weren't such an accommodating and graceful woman, I'm positive she'd have raised an eyebrow. To her eternal credit, she says, "I don't understand, but nonetheless, you have my word. I will keep this until I have need of it."

I let out a sigh of relief. "Oh God, thank you. That's a massive load off my mind, my lady. You have no idea." Phila's pegasus lets out an impatient snort. "Anyway, that's all I needed. Safe travels!"

"Please continue to keep my family safe, as you have been doing, Randall," she says.

I smile at her. "I will, Lady Emmeryn."

She nods, and the pair of them take off to join the rest of the guard in the air, presumably to try to work around the advancing Plegian guard and get back to Ylisstol undetected.

I manage to make it back to the caravan before collapsing onto my ass from exhaustion. Before I can get comfy sitting on the ground, though, there's Maribelle again.

"Ugh, you absolute fool! Get up and come with me!" she demands, pulling me to my feet. Despite her irritation, she still helps me back to the medical supply wagon. "Do you have any idea how worried I have been about you, only to have you go storming off like that, faster than I can keep up with?"

"I couldn't say, but I'm guessing 'very'?" I say with a sheepish smile as she leans me on some staff crates and the wagon shudders into motion, no doubt because we need to keep moving to avoid the Plegian advancing forces as well.

"'Very' hardly begins to cover it! First I watch you take an axe wound to the side, and then you're engaged in a fight with the enemy commander, and then on top of that, you go plummeting off into the canyon! I… I thought you…" She kneels down next to me, and I realize she's crying. "I was so scared you were going to…"

I pull her into a hug, and she accepts wholeheartedly, squeezing me if anything too hard for a few moments. "Hey, there's no need to worry. I'm not going anywhere," I attempt to reassure her, probably unconvincingly. I might know it's true that I can't die, but there's not really a good way to convince her of the same.

"Strong words, coming from someone who can't seem to stop brushing with death at every turn," she retorts, muffled into my shoulder. She pulls away enough to look me in the eye. "I need you to start being more careful."

That look in her eye says it all. What I did today was unfair. Even if I intended to undo it all, making Maribelle watch something like that was cruel, and I owe her an apology.

"You're right. I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?" I ask sincerely.

She sighs. "Of course. Just promise you'll stay safe."

"Only if you promise the same."

"I promise too, then."

A moment passes, and her eyes remain zeroed in on mine.

"So… does this mean I have to give up on my side-career as a professional cliff diver?"

She breaks eye contact for long enough to roll her eyes, snorting in either laughter or disgust, or both, then leans in and presses her lips to mine.

It takes probably a full second for 1) my heart to start beating again and 2) my brain to realize what's happening. By then we've both woven our arms around each other and committed to making this moment last. After a few seconds, I slide to the floor, and she's lying on top of me.

Some amount of time later (my brain decided it had more interesting things to keep track of), she finally breaks it apart, supporting her upper body on outstretched arms on either side of me. Her hair tumbles down in drills around us. A moment of silence passes between us, with the smallest of smiles on her face to tell me it's at least going well so far.

"So anyway, like I was saying last night. Do you want to go out sometime? Maybe look at some stars or something?" I say, suddenly full of all the bravado I didn't have yesterday. It doesn't feel like it was just a day ago now though; now it feels like a lifetime has passed.

She giggles. "I was beginning to wonder if that was what you were intending to ask," she says. "To answer the question, let's say, hmm…" and she lowers herself enough to allow her to kiss me again.

"I like that answer," I say around her lips during the kiss.

"Hey Maribelle, have you seen– _whoa_!" Lissa shouts, her voice echoing off the thick canvas and making it all the louder in our ears.

Instantly, Maribelle is scrambling off me, sitting up atop one of the crates and somehow already holding a clipboard. "Oh, Lissa my dear!" she says entirely too loudly. "I just stumbled and fell onto poor Randy here, isn't that silly?"

Oh my God, you are a piss-poor liar, Mari. The red I can see on her face and feel in my own betrays everything. "Hey there, princess. What's up?" I ask in an attempt to be casual.

Lissa's face too has reddened. "Uh… Nevermind, I'll find it on my own," she says, ducking out quickly. I hear a yelp and a _thud_ as she presumably trips on her way out of the wagon.

Maribelle and I look at each other for a moment. I'm not quite sure who gives a nervous laugh first, but the other follows almost instantly, and soon we are both cackling like fiends in the wagon. Soon, we've calmed down though.

"I think we will have much to discuss in the near future," she says.

I nod. "Right. For now, I should probably go. You know, to avoid people talking more than they're already going to."

She nods in turn. "Not a bad idea. I will see you later, then."

I shoot her a wink as I leave the wagon. "You sure will."

* * *

For now, everyone's so preoccupied with the Exalt leaving that the invariable rumors about Maribelle and me either haven't started or haven't been deemed the most important thing on anyone's plate yet, so when night rolls around, I find I go pretty much unchallenged on the way back to my tent.

Except for Robin, that is.

"So, I know there's a lot of everyone's plate, but it looks like you and another girl around here at least made a little room for dessert, eh?" she asks.

"Don't you have a march to plan or something?" I ask, but I can't hide the smile from my face.

"Actually, yes. But I figured it was worth checking in, regardless," she answers seriously.

"But yeah, that's true. It worked out after all! All I had to do was get thrown off a cliff!"

She narrows her eyes. "Yeah, I wouldn't recommend that for any future romantic gestures, by the way. You can't always be sure there'll be a pegasus knight down there to catch you."

"Yeah, yeah. I had it under control," I say, waving a hand.

She raises a brow, placing a hand on her hip. "Is that right? That's some confidence. Where was that last night?"

"Hell if I know," I shrug.

"Anyway, you seem to be doing okay, so that's me, checking in on you like I said I would." She turns to leave.

"Thanks again for your help. You know, even though it wasn't needed," I say to her back.

She looks over her shoulder. "I don't even think I'm going to say 'you're welcome' to that," she says, and walks away.

It's another one of those nights where I'm almost asleep before my body hits the sleeping mat.

* * *

" _Mornin', Mindy."_

" _Good morning to you as well, Mister Randall."_

" _Oh, come on now, your mom isn't around. Can't I be Randy sometimes at least?"_

" _Please understand, Mister Randall, that it's a habit I don't want to get into if I must watch myself around her anyway. I might slip up if I'm not diligent, and then she'll chastise me like none other."_

" _I just don't get it. What's wrong with being friends with those you're working for?"_

" _It's not so much that, I suppose… Look, let me put it this way. My mother has worked for the Dukedom of Themis for decades. In all that time, she never once called Lady Maribelle or Lady Maureen anything other than Lady Maribelle or Lady Maureen, even to me when it was just the two of us. Well, excepting her use of the term 'dearie', I suppose. To her, this job is her life. I have to honor that as well. Does that make sense?"_

" _I… guess. I still protest it, though."_

" _So be it. Oh, Mister Randall, I did have a question for you though."_

" _Yeah? Whatcha got?"_

" _Would you be sad if we died?"_

" _Would I… I'm sorry, what?"_

" _WOULD YOU BE SAD IF WE DIED?"_

* * *

I wake up in a cold sweat. I wipe my brow and notice my hands are shaking.

"Jesus Christ," I whisper to the black tent flap. I'm not sure if it's a curse or a prayer.

* * *

 **Eh? Eh? Not too shabby in terms of story progression, eh? We're going places! Bet ya didn't think the wind sheets were coming back, huh? But ol' ThreeDollar's always got a plan. I genuinely hope to have another chapter up soon, because there's still so much left that I want to do with this story, and I'm so lucky that you all have stuck with me even this far. As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**


	16. Ch 16: The Sing-Along Special

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 16: The Sing-Along Special**

 _The green-clad official is trembling, but fortunately the brisk trotting of the pegasus masks it despite his close proximity to the girl commanding the beast._

" _Are you doing alright back there, my lord?" the girl asks cheerfully. "I know riding pegasi can be quite the bumpy experience if you're not used to it."_

 _His throat is dry as he responds after a moment, "I am fine, thank you. No worries."_

 _The rider's eyes are quick, surveying the flat plains and gentle hills in every direction for any signs of trouble. She has been trained well. Still, no matter how well one trains their eyes, it remains impossible to see what goes on right behind you._

 _This too is fortunate, Lord Aventine reflects as he slowly slides the thin dagger out from the folds of his robes._

" _We should be nearly arrived at the old campsite, my lord," the rider says, making him flinch and almost drop the dagger. He tightens his grip, the knuckles of his hand whitening._

" _That's good, that's good," he says. He holds the blade out of sight until he notices the pegasus slowing down._

" _We're here. What sort of documents are you looking for, by the way?" the rider asks as her mount comes to a stop._

 _Without another word, while she is distracted with the reins and stirrups, Lord Aventine snakes his hand over her shoulder and quietly opens up her unprotected throat with the dagger. The rider grabs at his wrist, but it's too little, too late. Her strength is rapidly fading, and within seconds he wrenches his arm free of her grasp. No longer held up by the stirrups, the rider slides off the side of her mount and collapses to the ground._

 _The pegasus rears up in alarm, realizing what's going on, but Aventine anticipated this problem too. Though difficult, he manages to keep his grip on the mount and not fall off. He pulls himself forward as much as he can to get in reach of the beast's throat and, with a few jabs and slices, makes quick work of it as well._

 _Not much of the skill he cultivated in King Gideon's mad war on Plegia remains after years of atrophy, but some of that old muscle memory cannot be forgotten._

 _Dismounting the wheezing pegasus, he kneels down beside the rider, whose eyes are still wide in panic. Her hand fumbles uselessly at the clasp of the small pouch on her belt that contains a bottle of vulnerary; blood loss and lack of oxygen have robbed her of the strength to get at the bottle at all, let alone lift it to her mouth. Her other trembling hand reaches as best it can toward Aventine as he leans over her._

" _I am truly sorry," he says, but as her expression remains unchanged, he can't be sure if she's registering what he is telling her. "It was never my intention for things to come to this. I know that must seem hard to believe from where you lie now, but please try to believe that this is the truth." Her eyes roll back in her head, and with a light thud, her skull hits the hard-packed soil of the country road._

 _He stands a moment later, looking down at his robes, once green, now stained with blood into an unappealing brownish color. He briefly considers attempting to hide the body, but thinks better of it when he recalls that unless he were to move the pegasus as well, which he cannot do, it is largely pointless. Instead, he bends over and loosens her belt, taking the vulnerary and thin rapier strapped to her waist and hanging them from his own belt._

 _He remembers the usefulness of vulnerary in countering the worst effects of dehydration, should it come to that. A few desperate scrapes in the last war come to mind, after the peasant conscriptions led to massive food and water shortages._

 _He cannot go back to Breakneck Pass, regardless of who comes out on top in the ambush. The ambush that may very well not be an ambush after all, he reflects, after that encounter with that healer. Randall, was it? How on earth did he know so much? There must be more at work than meets the eye. Perhaps that Roseannean nobleman is the source of these troubles. After all, he lost an elite captain mere nights ago in a rendezvous that should have resulted in his death. How much help had Virion had in evading his fate?_

 _His thoughts are interrupted by a dry, raspy laugh. "Keh heh, what's this? The scene of a grisly crime?"_

 _Aventine struggles not to roll his eyes. A Grimleal priest, along with his entourage. A symbol of everything King Gideon had hated. Not without reason, either; these priestly types from Plegia are (so far at least) without exception unsavory figures at best. Behind the priest and his attendants, Aventine can see down the hill that a large Plegian force is moving east, no doubt having broken through the western border and already looking to spread farther into Ylisse._

" _Hold, Grimleal. I am a friendly," he says, doing his best to keep the disdain from his voice._

" _Ohoho, Aventine, we know who you are," the priest responds, his grin contorting his face in an almost reptilian way._

" _I prefer Lord Aventine, actually. I still hold my land titles, even after this deal I have with your general." Despite the fear he felt in Breakneck Pass, his killing of the pegasus knight has begun to revive the old soldier from the grave, along with some of his old confidence. That, and his antipathy toward the Grimleal religion has steeled his resolve._

" _Is that so? Well, I prefer Father Chalard, as long as we are insisting on titles here," Chalard replies. A couple of his men chuckle._

" _Well then, Father Chalard, I request to be taken into the care of your men," Aventine says._

" _Keh heh, that's a funny way to word it. Officially speaking, you are being taken into custody. We have orders to deliver you to General Mustafa, at which time I'm sure you'll be treated with the utmost care. Until then, you're a prisoner of the Plegian army, and will act like it," Chalard says, eyes narrowing in sadistic glee._

 _Aventine sighs inwardly. Power plays and grandstanding at a time like this? But there's no helping it. "Fine then, if it makes you feel better, place me under arrest."_

" _Place me under arrest...what?" Chalard asks expectantly._

" _...Father Chalard," Aventine says through gritted teeth._

" _There we go," the priest says while one of his men gets a length of rope ready to tie up the official._

* * *

"Oh, come on, live a little!"

"I'm living just fine as I am, thank you very much."

I scowl. "But if it's just me doing it, no one else will join in."

"No one else will join in anyway! You and I are the only ones who know any of these songs," Maribelle reminds me, with a 'tsk tsk' movement of her finger.

"They'll learn! You learned pretty quickly, as I recall," I protest.

"...Alright, I will at least admit that they're fairly easy to pick up."

"See? It's a good idea! And let's be honest; these guys need a little cheering up after all the crap that went down back at Breakneck." I personally am doing pretty alright, considering recent… developments, but I've still noticed the mood around the caravan for the last day or so has been less than jubilant.

She considers for a moment. "...Maybe. It is a stressful time for everyone. I suppose it couldn't hurt to try to loosen the others up a little." Her shoulders slump a little as she realizes she's allowed me to gain momentum.

"Exactly! So let's go teach 'em!"

"But do I have to sing in front of all of them? It seems a touch, I don't know… undignified? What if the others think it ridiculous?" As real as stage fright is, it's a little adorable to see her looking so shy.

"Psh, it'll be fine! I promise." I wave a hand. "They're our friends, after all."

She huffs, but can't keep a small smile from creeping onto her face. "Gods above… Fine. I will give it a try. But only because it seems so important to you."

"Woo! Thanks Mari!" I start rushing ahead to bring it up with Robin.

"You're welcome, Randy," I hear behind me.

* * *

"You want to have the Shepherds do what?" Robin asks.

"An evening of singing some songs together! I'll teach them some music from where I come from, and they'll all learn to sing them together. It would help boost morale once folks get into it, for sure," I explain.

"I don't know, Randall. There's a lot going on right now, and we need to keep focused." Her eyes shift off to the side.

"We also need to make sure nobody stresses themselves into an early grave. Yourself included. If your hair wasn't white to begin with, you'd have whitened it with all the worrying you do about every little move we make."

She frowns. "Someone's gotta keep an eye on the day-to-day operations of the group, and who else will do it?"

"Frederick?" I offer.

"Maybe… I just feel better doing it myself, alright?" she replies seriously.

"Fair enough, I guess. Anyway, you said not too long ago that you're glad I remind you to loosen up every once in a while. So this is me, reminding you of that," I say smugly.

She grumbles indistinctly. "I suppose since we're nowhere near any towns or major stops on the way to Ferox, there won't be anything terribly important to do tonight… If there were a time to do something so frivolous, it would be tonight. I'll tell the others, then?"

"Woohoo!"

* * *

We sit around the campfire after supper, packed tightly on this surprisingly chilly night. Must mean we're closer to Ferox than I thought. Altogether there's around a dozen of us crowded on makeshift chairs and fallen logs and the like. Maribelle sits on my right, and perhaps unsurprisingly, Frederick sits on my left.

I stand to address the group. "Okay, now this only works if we get a lot of people getting into it, alright? Okay, my guys, listen up. It goes like this for your part:

Listen, baby  
Ain't no mountain high  
Ain't no valley low  
Ain't no river wide enough, baby!"

Maribelle takes a deep breath. Across the circle, Chrom gives her a smile and a thumbs-up. Always the positive influence.

"Alright. And then, ladies, your part goes like so:

If you need me, call me  
No matter where you are  
No matter how far (I throw in a "don't worry, baby" for good measure)  
Just call my name  
I'll be there in a hurry  
You don't have to worry"

It only hits me just now that I've never heard Maribelle sing on her own before. Every time we sang in the Plegian hole, I was singing alongside her. Her voice leans a bit toward the alto range, and even as unsure as she is here, the tone is full and pleasant. It's a little funny that she somehow doesn't drop her dignified demeanor even as we sing such lighthearted stuff. In short: I like it.

Regardless, I jump in for:

"Cause baby there  
Ain't no mountain high enough  
Ain't no valley low enough  
Ain't no river wide enough  
To keep me from getting to you, babe!"

We pause there to see what people think. Sumia and Ricken actually clap for us, which even in the dim firelight I can see reddens Maribelle's face a little. Stahl, Chrom, Cordelia, Donnel, and Robin all smile openly at us. Virion and Gaius nod approvingly. Panne had her eyes closed for the song, but a faint smile plays across her lips. Sully doesn't seem to react one way or another. Frederick either didn't like the song or doesn't like me; either way, he's scowling.

Vaike, meanwhile, isn't content to keep his thoughts to himself. "So, uh, when's the baby due again?" he asks, grinning like a fiend.

I shoot him a glare, but Maribelle gets to him first, getting to her feet quickly. "Ugh, Vaike! I have known you to be a base oaf before, but must you even spoil an evening like this with such depravity?" Vaike visibly flinches, as do those sitting near him.

Now it's up to me to diffuse this. "Whoa, whoa, it was just a little joke, no harm done," I say, standing up myself and gently but firmly putting a hand on her shoulder. "That said, be cool, Vaike. Come on."

He raises a hand. "Gotcha. Sorry."

Maribelle looks like she wants to say more, but closes her mouth after a moment and takes a long, slow breath.

The pair of us sit down, and while the awkwardness that permeates the air doesn't leave for a few minutes, soon people are relatively loosened up again.

"Alrighty guys, let's hear it!" I call out, and we start again.

* * *

It's a little surprising to see which Shepherds want to play along and which don't. Unsurprisingly, Lon'qu and Miriel have decided to sit this one out and are off somewhere. It's difficult to say whether Kellam is here with us or off with Miriel, but since I approve of either option, the matter leaves my mind quickly. Lissa's absence only hits me well after we've started, but I figure she's off doing something like bothering Lon'qu.

Among those that stay with us, Frederick, Virion, Sully, and Panne opt out of actually singing, content merely to watch (or in Frederick's case, glare). None of these really surprise me, except I guess for Virion, who I imagine is actually pretty good. Maybe he thinks this kind of music is below him?

I come up with a few more songs to teach them, but owing to the lack of instruments, my choices are somewhat limited. Fortunately, some of the others bring up familiar Ylissean songs to teach those that don't know them (so basically just me and Robin), and it ends up morphing into a sort of music exchange.

Chrom is an alright singer, not terrible and not terrific. Ricken, owing to his mid-puberty voice, isn't… great. Vaike, unsurprisingly, is both loud and awful, but he has so much fun with it that no one says anything. Stahl is (you guessed it) pretty average, both in tone and talent. Donnel has some trouble dropping his thick dialect enough to enunciate the words correctly, but it's passable. The real surprise ends up being Gaius, who may very well be the best singer in the Shepherds; that sweet tooth seems to have bled over into a honeyed voice.

Sumia's voice, like her general demeanor, is soft and sweet, relatively unassuming. Cordelia's voice is perfect, because she is perfect (in truth, she's skilled, but a little too mechanical about it, and doesn't let herself have enough fun with it). Robin, on the other hand, seems to put having fun first, and just lets loose; considering how much she's been stressing since her plan at Breakneck fell through, it's good to see her like this. She even let her hair down for the occasion, and it flies around with reckless abandon as she dances around.

What's also kind of funny to see is who's got their eye on whom while they sing, especially during our first song. The most noticeable is of course Cordelia, who only has eyes for our fair captain. A number of the guys in turn have their eye on her; story of her life, I'm sure. Stahl tries to make it seem like he's not looking at anyone in particular, but I can see him glance Panne's way every few seconds to see her reaction to the song, which remains muted. Vaike very consciously seems to be avoiding even looking in Sully's direction; one or both of them must still be sore about the other day.

The only truly innocent and flirtation-free souls among us are Chrom, Robin, Maribelle, and me, who all flit among the others to make sure everyone's having fun. Not that I don't send the fair troubadour a few sultry glances here and there too, naturally.

Overall, it's an evening full of laughter and song in equal measure. I can say without reservation it's the most fun I've had since I first arrived in Ylisse.

Eventually, things start winding down, and people begin drifting off in various directions, laughing or clapping each other on the back. Soon, just a few of us remain, Chrom among them. He turns to me.

"Hey Randall, I just wanted to thank you. I know it's no big deal and all, but I see what you're trying to do for everyone, and I appreciate it."

I shrug. "It seems everyone's got a lot on their minds, not least of whom is you. I don't envy your position, boss."

"I wouldn't either, were I you," he admits. "Still, we have been fortunate. We haven't lost Shepherds, and while war is brewing, every day that passes without battle is still a day to be thankful for."

"That's kind of funny. You strike me as the kind of guy who lives for combat, actually," I say.

"I live for training. I live for competition. I live for being ready, should the enemy appear at the gates. But if I could have a guarantee that no one would come after Ylisse, that the desire for war could be erased, I would gladly lay down Falchion for the rest of my life," he says seriously.

I nod. "I see what you mean. I misspoke before. I guess I just mean you'd have to find a new hobby."

He laughs. "Yes, I suppose I would. I'm not very good at playing the primped and proper noble, am I? Maybe I'd get into farming, or construction."

"Or leadership?" I offer.

"That's Emm's forte. I've always been content to follow her advice, and she's never led any of us astray. Of course, I question the logic behind her most recent move, but I've seen that fire in her eyes before. There was no stopping her."

Oh, buddy. That leadership mantle might very well be thrust on you anyway if things don't work out like I hope.

"I'm sure that things will turn out alright," is what I actually say.

He chuckles again. "That makes one of us. Anyway, thanks again, Randall. I'm going to head to bed."

"Night, captain."

He heads off to his tent, and I turn to make for my own when someone grabs my wrist and pulls me aside. In the dim light, it takes me a moment to recognize that it's Lissa pulling me away from camp. She isn't saying anything, which is exceedingly uncommon for her. It unnerves me.

At last, when we're at what she's decided is a suitable distance, she lets go of my wrist and turns to face me. I can tell even on this cloudy night that her expression is livid.

"I didn't want to interrupt everyone having so much fun, so I waited until you all were finished." Her voice is low, but threatening. "Alright Randy, I don't want to beat around the bush. What is a Rescue staff doing among your supplies?" She holds up said staff, which was in her other hand.

"What do you mean? Also, why were you in my stuff?"

"Princess' privilege, and don't play dumb. Why do you have a Rescue staff?"

"I just never got a chance to put it back in the medical supply wagon is all, sorry. I can put it back if you want. If that's all this is about."

"If that's all this–? Randy, when and where did you use this?"

I think I understand what's going on now.

"Yeah, I used it at Breakneck Pass during the battle, okay?"

"So what Kellam saw really did happen then… _What on earth were you thinking?_ " She shoves my shoulder, hard. "You weren't ready to use that in a real fight! On real people! Our comrades!"

"I wasn't even planning on using it!" I lie. "I just brought it as a last resort precaution, just in case! You never know what's going to happen on a battlefield!"

"Yeah, but you're not listening. You. Were. Not. Ready! Answer honestly. Were you aiming for that Plegian captain when you cast that spell?" She's seething by this point.

I've already told so many lies, but for some reason I find I don't want to add to the pile anymore. "No, no I wasn't. I was aiming for Cordelia. That's why when the captain warped, he ended up losing part of his arm and leg. There wasn't the right amount of space."

She lets out something between a scream and a growl. "You _moron_! Do you understand how wrong it was to use that spell?"

I feel my temper rising to approach hers. "No, I don't, because it wasn't wrong. You know why? Because that captain is dead now, and Cordelia is not. That's because of me."

"Oh really? Is that why Kellam also told me you got dragged off a cliff, only to get saved by Cordelia in a massive stroke of luck?" Lissa asks incredulously. I don't have a response to that right away. "Do you get that if Cordelia hadn't gotten out of the way, you could very well have severed her arm, or her leg?"

"Possibly! But I also could have Rescued her correctly and gotten her out of the way of the axe that was coming for her skull!" I protest.

"The fact that you couldn't anticipate her moves alone shows me that you had no business using that staff, Randy. You're talking around the point. Do you even get why I'm mad, aside from of course that one of our comrades might have _died_?"

"There's more to it than that?"

"It's that you broke my trust, Randy. I was willing to train you, but that comes with the understanding that you use my training responsibly. Going off on your own, into battle, using half-baked skills that I taught you and putting my friends' lives at risk is not okay. It's super not okay. So yeah, I'm mad. And I'm sure not going to be teaching you more about how to use these, either." She brandishes the staff at me.

I smack it aside. "Oh, obviously that's the solution. If the problem is that I don't know everything I need to know about Rescue staves, then the solution is to _never teach those things to me_."

"Why would I trust you with more knowledge when you've already misused what little you've been given?" Lissa asks.

Some part of me, deep beneath the pride and bravado, knows I should apologize. But that little guy doesn't have a lot of sway right now. I mean, it was a pretty much perfect run, first try. No casualties on our side, a flawless victory. What more can one reasonably ask for? And even if something had gone wrong, it was just a matter of going back, right?

 _Except you tried to do that, and failed._

" _Shit, shit!"_

" _The battle! Is it still going?"_

" _Is everyone okay? No one's harmed?"_

And just like that, clarity hits like a truck. I wasn't in control. Not of the staff. Not the battle. Not even my ability to go back. I was wrong.

I still am wrong.

"You… You're right, Lissa. You're right. I screwed up." I swallow. "I was overconfident, and selfish, and it could have gotten Cordelia, or anyone, really hurt. I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry." I look down, as I find I can't meet her eye.

For a few moments, she's still fuming, but she doesn't say anything. Just loud, angry breathing. Even that doesn't last for too long, though. "Do you mean it?" she asks at last.

"Yeah, I do."

"Can you look at me and promise not to do it again?"

I look her in the eye. I'm not used to her expression being this serious. "I promise. Nothing gets used before I'm ready to use it."

She nods. "And look, I do get why you did it. You want to be useful to the team. You told me as much. But sometimes the most useful thing you can do is trust your teammates to handle themselves, or to have your back. You get it?"

"Yeah, I get it."

She holds me in suspense for a second longer, then sighs. "Alright, fine. I'm no good at staying angry anyway, really, so it's a good thing you didn't take too long realizing what a dummy you were. Your next Rescue lesson is tomorrow when we make camp. Got it?"

I nod. "Got it."

She considers for a moment. "While I've got you here. Just so you know, if you break Maribelle's heart, I will have no choice but to skin you."

I can't help but smirk. "Duly noted." We start walking back to camp.

"Oh, you don't think I could do it, eh?"

"You could maybe do some of it, but I think I'm too tall for you to skin all of me. Or rather, maybe you're too short."

"We'll see about that once I knock you over, mister!"

* * *

" _You still haven't answered my question, Mister Randall."_

" _What?"_

" _Would you be sad if we died?"_

" _Yes, then! Yes, I would be."_

"' _Would be'? Don't you remember?"_

" _Remember what?"_

" _You already let us die."_

" _Wait… that's not right."_

" _Are you confused? We were too, at first."_

" _I don't understand."_

" _You see, we were naive. We thought that you had come to care about us."_

" _What are you talking about, Mindy? I do care about you!"_

" _You don't. You say you do because that's easier than admitting that even after all of us died and you could have stopped it, you couldn't be bothered to care. Isn't that true?"_

" _It's not! I tried to go back! I did!"_

" _Yes, you did, but I saw your real reason. We aren't people to you. We're still… what's the term…?"_

" _You're not real. You're just a dream I'm having."_

" _Yes, that's right. Deny it all, just like that. We aren't people at all, are we? I was a fool to think you might have felt anything for me. I was a distraction, an entertainment. So was Jackson. So was my mother. My mother, and as she died you stood and watched."_

" _You're just a dream. You're just a dream. Get out of here. Get out of my head."_

" _You just watched. So sick, so desensitized. You just watched."_

" _GET OUT!"_

" _As you wish. Deny, deny, deny until you break."_

 _Do you understand how wrong it was to use that spell?_

 _No, I don't, because it wasn't wrong. You know why? Because that captain is dead now, and Cordelia is not. That's because of me._

* * *

My eyes snap open. The by-now familiar black tent flap stares at me. My throat is dry. I reach for my canteen and realize I left it by the fire earlier. I'm almost grateful for the chance to focus on that.

As I walk toward the ashen fire pit though, I can see I won't be alone.

"Cordelia?" I say in a half-whisper to avoid waking any of the others.

She turns to me quickly, startled. At the same time, she snaps shut a small book, but in the moonlight I can make out the title: _Make Him Fall for You in a Fortnight_.

"A-ah, you, um... Your name is Randall, right?" she asks, very transparently attempting to hide the book.

"That's me," I reply, deciding not to tease her about the book… yet. I grab my canteen and take a long drink.

"You must be new to the Shepherds. I've never seen you around Ylisstol before," she says.

"Yeah, relatively speaking. Couldn't imagine why they let me in, though," I half-joke.

"I can tell you must be a positive presence around the others. Even with everyone worrying so about the war, you make sure everyone is keeping their heads," she says with a smile.

"You don't think it makes them think I'm just flippant and detached?" I ask.

She ponders a moment. "I suppose that's possible, too. But then again, plenty of them were willing to let you teach them music for an evening. Sitting out was always an option, but most of the Shepherds didn't take it. So I stand by what I said." I don't say anything for a bit. "That said, do _you_ think you're detached?"

"Haha, I can't even tell sometimes," I laugh dryly.

"Well, if I may say so, I got a glimpse of your caring nature back at Breakneck Pass. You were willing to throw yourself from Hyperion rather than put me at risk, and you hardly knew a thing about me. That sort of selflessness doesn't come from detached people, in my experience."

"Well, that's not…" I don't like that she's misunderstanding why I wanted to fall, but it's also not an option to explain my real reason either. "I guess so." I find that I'm suddenly very tired again. "I think I'm going to call it in here. Gotta give the old vocal cords a rest. Thanks again for saving me, Cordelia," I say, turning back toward my tent.

"It was no trouble, Randall. Good night!" she replies, and I can hear the smile in the shape of her words.

As I get back into bed, I can't decide whether that conversation made me feel better or worse.

* * *

" _Delivery for you, General," Chalard says, dragging Aventine behind him._

" _Delivery?" General Mustafa turns around. "Chalard, what is my guest doing tied up like that? Untie him at once, and apologize."_

" _Yes sir," the priest almost hisses. "My sincerest apologies, Lord Aventine. All for appearances, you understand, I'm sure." Within moments, the ropes are gone. "Anything else, general?"_

" _That will be all, thank you. Please return to the king for orders."_

" _That upstart heathen? King Hartyr would be ashamed of what the country has become, left in the hands of that secularist Gangrel."_

" _Mind your tone, Chalard. You have your orders, now go." Grumbling, the priest obliges. Mustafa turns to Aventine again. "So, my friend. Dare I ask how the trip was?"_

" _Dreadful, as I'm sure you guessed. Why do we have to work with his type, anyway?"_

" _His type is necessary, I'm afraid. Gangrel isn't terribly popular with the religiously fervent ever since he walked back on some of the more theocratic principles on which King Hartyr based his rule."_

 _Aventine sighs. "I see. A pity I can't put him in the ground."_

 _Mustafa gives a half-smile. "Someone will, someday. Sooner than he thinks, no doubt. For now, there are more pressing matters on our plate."_

" _Any word yet from the east?"_

 _The smile fades. "Yes, and none of it good. Captain Vasto's men were defeated handily, and the Exalt escaped uncaptured."_

" _There's something else you should know. At least one of the Shepherds knew about the ambush before it happened. He confronted me about it before Vasto's men arrived. I don't know how he got ahold of that information or from whom, which only makes it all the more concerning."_

" _Who was this knowledgeable Shepherd?" Mustafa raises a brow._

" _It was Randell, or Randall, or something like that; I only caught the name once. A bearded priest with black robes."_

" _Then we will keep an eye out for him as well. Otherwise, it's time to proceed."_

" _Of course. Let's get to it."_

* * *

 **A/N: Oooh, clandestine dealings~ So one thing I suppose I should get feedback on before I decide on the matter for sure is what you guys think of these long sections from other characters' perspectives. Do you like getting other people's POV once in a while? I'm considering having entire chapters that follow other characters, as that would help keep the voice fresh and of course allow me to tell the story from several angles, but I'm not dead-set on the idea yet. As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**


	17. Ch 17: We All Talk Through Some Stuff

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 17: We All Talk Through Some Stuff**

"So _this_ is what fighting Risen on the Northroad is like! I'd heard rumors, but I was forced to miss it last time."

"Randall, I appreciate that you're having a good time, but please stay focused. HYAH!" Chrom replies, punctuating his sentence with a wide swing that takes a Risen fighter's head off.

"I'm plenty focused, thank you very much," I protest as I raise my staff to block an incoming merc's overhead swing aimed at Chrom's head, knocking the monster off-balance.

"Fair enough," Chrom says, switching places with me and using the momentum to fuel a stab through the stunned Risen. Yanking the blade out, he turns back to face me. "Behind!"

I whirl around, swinging my staff into the Risen behind me and knocking its lance's stabbing motion off-center, causing it to narrowly miss. Repositioning my hands on the staff, I use the bottom end to smack down on the shaft of the Risen soldier's lance, which forces the soldier to drop it. Not wanting to waste time, I quickly follow up and hoist the staff over my shoulder, then stab the bottom end into the Risen's broad throat. The good thing about such formidably bulky enemies is that they're hard to miss. After a moment, the creature dissolves.

It's so much nicer when the enemy dissolves like that. My hands can stay clean.

Looks like that was the last of– _Whoosh_ HOLY SHIT WHAT WAS THAT– Oh, it was an arrow. I just narrowly avoided having my skull perforated. Looks like an archer was hiding behind a tall tree a little ways away.

As the archer nocks another arrow, Chrom steps up beside me and picks up the fallen soldier's lance off the ground. With impressive precision, he launches the lance at the Risen, smashing it through the chest and knocking it on its back before dissolving it.

"That's gotta be nearly all of them, right?" I ask, looking around for more.

"If there are any left, I don't see them," Chrom replies. "Let's meet back with the others."

As we walk back toward the caravan, Chrom looks my way. "So, you're getting pretty good at that, Randall," he says, nodding toward my staff. "Have you ever considered taking up a lance for real?"

I shrug. "I guess? I haven't given it much thought."

That's a lie. I've been thinking about it a lot, actually. I still don't have an answer that I like.

"Well, Frederick has been preparing to start teaching me some lance techniques myself pretty soon. Although," Chrom shoots me a confident grin, "did you see that throw? I might already be further along than Frederick expects!"

I smile at him. "I was going to say, that was a crazy throw! Honestly, I just assumed you've already been learning."

"Not formally. I just pay a lot of attention to what Frederick and Sully do on the battlefield when I get the chance. Still, I have a feeling I have to learn a different set of skills than what they typically use. They're both mounted in battle, after all, and I don't have… the most amiable relationship with horses myself, let's say." He grimaces. "So I need to learn how best to use a lance as an infantryman. But I was thinking, you could get some formal training as well. From what I saw, you've at least got an instinct for it."

I don't say anything for a moment. "I dunno, Chrom. Maybe it's not for me."

A voice sounds out from ahead of us. "I'd beg to differ." Robin strides forward to join us. "I agree with Chrom; you should be learning whatever skills you've got an aptitude for."

"You've been trying to get me on the front lines since we joined up! I'm starting to think you just want to off me, Robin," I say.

"Precisely the opposite, Randall," she replies. "I want to make sure that when put face to face with an enemy, you _don't_ get offed."

"If _I'm_ the one who's face to face with an enemy, wouldn't that mean that somewhere along the line, it's _your_ strategy that failed? Healers shouldn't ever be facing down the enemy, right?" I say smugly.

She scowls. "Alright, wiseass. I suppose I should be flattered that you think my strategies are so ironclad. Still, no plan in history has ever been absolutely airtight. A good strategy isn't just one plan; it's having enough plans to account for every possible variable. That includes the possibility of you ending up facing down, say, the captain of a company of wyvern riders, or perhaps a brutally powerful dark mage noblewoman. You know, unlikely events like that."

I can see she's got the upper hand. "Fine, fine. Can I… think about it?"

Her shoulders slump. "Sure. I'll talk to you later." She goes off to see to the rest of the team.

"You two are getting along nicely, I see," Chrom says with a smirk.

"Is she like that with everyone, or does she have it out for me?" I ask.

"Once she spots a potential in someone, she latches onto it. It was her that pushed me toward learning lance skills myself, some weeks ago. I think she's trying to get Vaike to show Lissa how to handle an axe as well, though I can't imagine why."

"The woman's a hazard," I say with a sigh.

"Professionally, I will maintain as I always have that her tactical genius has saved us on several occasions, which justifies her eccentricities. Personally… you wouldn't hear much argument from me," Chrom replies.

"So does that mean you keep her around for her looks?" I ask, smirking.

"Robin? No, I wouldn't say that." He pauses. "Oh gods, that sounded so much harsher out loud. I just… I mean, she's not exactly my _type_ , you know what I mean? I just don't think I could think of her… like that."

I stare a bit. "I was kidding, but damn."

"Ah, you were just joking. Of course. My apologies." He looks quite thoroughly embarrassed.

"And just what would your 'type' be, then?" I ask.

He sighs. "I'm not entirely sure. Robin… she pulls us into battle. I know it's because it's her job, and she does a good job, but when I look at her, I'm reminded only of the war we've dragged her into. The war she's leading us deeper into. She's a steadfast companion, but I think I need someone who reminds me to pull away from battle, not press into it. Does that make sense?"

I'm a little stunned. "Wow. That's some heavy stuff."

He puts on a worried expression. "Oh gods, I'm sorry to dump all that on you, and over a joke, too."

I hold up my hands. "No, no, it's not that. I guess I'm just surprised you let all that spill to someone like me. I'm flattered."

He laughs. "I suppose that is a lot to put on a person. I don't know, Randall. You just seem like you'd understand. I can't really talk to the others about this. Frederick is so duty-bound, he wouldn't give me an honest opinion. Vaike is such a meathead, I can't count on him with this either. Lissa means well, but she's such a meddler, I've learned not to tell her anything I don't want the whole world to know."

I can't resist. "Have you thought about bringing this sort of thing up with Cordelia?" Imagine Chrom going to her for relationship advice. She'd probably pass out.

"Cordelia? I'm convinced she's not too fond of me," Chrom replies.

If I'd been drinking something, I'd have done a spit take. "Excuse me? What makes you think that?"

"I don't know, it just seems as though she clams up whenever I try to talk to her. It seems like she's been avoiding me for years. I suppose I must have done something to slight her, and she has yet to forgive me."

Oh, you poor girl. It really isn't meant to be, is it? When someone reaches this level of obliviousness, I fear there's no going back.

"Randy, Chrom! Are you both alright?" Maribelle asks, approaching with a staff in hand. "If either of you are injured, let me know straight away."

I smile at her. "Thank you for worrying, but we're okay."

She gives a satisfied huff. "Good. We could do with more battles where you emerge unharmed, Randy."

I put on a mock-scowl. "Though I will say, I'm hurt that you don't think I could heal us up just fine myself."

She scowls right back. "Well for starters, healing staves don't work on the user unless they're Balmwood, and I'm currently in possession of the only one we have. And for your information, I have every confidence in your ability; I was simply trying to be kind."

"I know," I say, tapping her nose as I walk past her and toward the caravan.

She blinks, then starts after me. "Hey! You can't just– get back here!"

Chrom waits a moment, mouth open as if to say something, but decides against it and follows us back to the others.

* * *

I'm trying to keep pace with Fleur-de-lis, but because the horse walks faster than I can, I'm having to jog every few moments to catch up with Maribelle.

"You know, Maribelle, you could get your horse to slow down a little bit so I could keep up a little easier," I huff.

"You mean more easily, Randy," she says.

"I know, but – _huff_ – I'm trying to – _huff_ – conserve my breath as I go," I retort as I jog back up to her side.

"That's no excuse for being poorly-spoken," she says, smiling smugly down at me.

"I think you just like watching me put forth all this effort to be next to you," I say, moaning internally as Fleur-de-lis starts pulling ahead again.

"Are you suggesting I might be manipulating you arbitrarily to bolster my own ego? The very thought!" she says dramatically, placing a hand on her chest. "I'm appalled you could think such a thing of me."

"Well, if it truly can't be helped, I will go talk to somebody who makes it a little easier to keep pace with them," I say to the back of her head, veering off to the side toward where Vaike and Lon'qu are walking.

"Wait, wait," Maribelle says, pulling up on the reins and slowing her horse. "I was just having a little fun with you is all."

"Same here," I reply, joining her at her side. "I was planning on keeping pace anyway."

"How gentlemanly of you," Maribelle giggles.

"I try, I try."

A brief moment of silence passes.

"So, Randy. As often as we spend time together, I don't often get your thoughts on the war, even with it going on all around us. What do you think of it?" Maribelle asks.

"What's with this all of a sudden?" I ask.

"Well, if you and I are going to be a… a couple, we should be able to be open about this sort of thing, no?" she replies, reddening slightly at the word 'couple'. "I just want to know that you're alright, I suppose."

"Oh. That makes sense. I'm fine, I'm pretty sure. Except for the times we're actually fighting in it, I don't think I worry about it too much. Why, what do you think about it?"

"I worry for Lissa, more than anything. She must be having such a tough time, what with her elder sister leaving to go back to Ylisstol despite the Plegian army already having broken through the border. She must be worried sick for our fair Exalt. Lord Chrom must be beside himself as well. Things may very well be going in a dark direction if the royal guard cannot keep Her Grace safe from harm. These are such uncertain times."

How can I reassure her honestly, when I know for sure that at least some of her worries are well-founded? "I'm sure that things will work out," I offer weakly.

"How are you so sure of that?" she asks.

"Because even if they don't, it won't have helped to worry about them now when there's nothing we can do. We have to believe in each other and in Emmeryn, because if we don't have faith, we'll be in a bad way before we even meet the enemy."

"I… suppose you have a point, Randy," she says after a moment. "We must keep believing, mustn't we?"

I nod. "It's the best thing we can do for now."

We walk in silence for a while.

"I'm sorry," she says at last. "We had a cheerful mood going, and I soiled it. I suppose I have a habit of doing that, don't I?"

"It's okay," I say. "You're just concerned for your friends and your country. No one can fault you for that. And if part of being with you is being the person who hears about these worries, then that's okay too." I offer a smile.

She returns a smile, briefly, before it drops from her face. "But I suppose my point in all this was to make sure that you are alright. We've been in battle so often lately. I worry for you, being so recently introduced to the life of a soldier. If you've any stresses that ail you, I want to know about them."

Oh boy. I've got plenty of stresses, Mari. Not least of which are the dreams I've been having pretty much every night lately about our mutual dead friends. Those are fun. Or the weird numbness I've been feeling every time we go into battle. Or the fact that I know for sure the Exalt is going to be captured and I was powerless to stop it. Or the heaps of confusing and conflicting feelings I have about taking up arms in this war. I guess you could say I have a lot going on in my head.

But when I look at her face tightened up with worry like that, I know I can't say any of that to her. She's already worrying herself sick just fretting over what's going on in her own head; I don't need to add another mental person's woes on top of that. There's not a lot I can do except play along with the story for now, but I can at least protect her from my own head.

"I appreciate it, Maribelle. Really. And if I do have worries that I can't cope with on my own, I will come to you with them, alright? But try not to worry so much on my behalf. I will be fine, I promise. Will you be okay too?"

She studies my face for a moment. "If you say so. I will do my best not to worry, as much as it requires that I defy my own nature."

"Thank you for that," I say.

Is it starting to snow? Oh God.

* * *

I've been given the unpleasant assignment of second watch. First watch is okay, because you haven't really gone to bed yet, so even though you're tired, once you're done you can sleep the rest of the night. Third watch isn't great, but it's not the worst; it's just waking up earlier than everyone else. But second watch is a bummer because neither the sleep you get before the watch nor after it is all that satisfying. It feels like I've just gotten to sleep when it's time to wake up for the watch, and then I have the same feeling the next morning when everyone has to wake up to start the day.

Since watch teams are comprised of three people, there's normally at least some decent conversation to be had (in hushed tones, but still). On this occasion, however, one of the watch is Lon'qu, and he hates talking. The other is Robin, but all she wants to talk about is potential routes and strategy for the next day. As far as I'm concerned, all the routes are the same, and all these strategies she's going on about are accounting for events that are too far-fetched to happen. Plus, since Robin is a woman, Lon'qu doesn't even want to sit with us, so he's watching the north side of camp while we watch the south, sitting on an overturned tree next to the road.

So needless to say, I'm not in the best mood as I sit freezing my ass off, peering down the long slope that we spent a good portion of our day slogging up. We must be getting close to Ferox now with all the chilly air and up-and-down terrain we've been dealing with for the past few days.

"But if we do stop in town, that would mean a potentially unnecessary detour north. On one hand, the supplies would no doubt be nice, but it adds as much as two days to our journey if the weather gets as bad as I think it might. But then again–" Robin continues her one-sided planning meeting.

"Alright. Let's go to town. I think everyone's been getting a little crazy just marching day in and day out. If we don't break up the monotony soon, I think someone will lose it," I say, just to stop her weighing the pros and cons over and over.

"That's a good point too. Hmm…" She places a finger to her chin. "Okay. Then we will stop in Darros Town tomorrow and hope we don't get held up too much. Oh, but what's the best road to take then? If we take the road straight there, we open ourselves up on the sides to–"

"No offense, Robin, but I really don't want to talk route planning right now. At least, not for the fifth time tonight," I say with an exasperated sigh, pulling my cloak tighter around myself.

"Well, what do you want to talk about then?" she asks.

"I think literally anything else," I reply with something between a chuckle and a shiver. The wind is starting to pick up.

She thinks for a moment. "Want to tell me why you're so hesitant to take up a lance, then?" she asks. "Back in Ylisstol, you wanted me to teach you to use thunder magic, and I know you've been working with Frederick and the others in physical training as well. You seemed pretty excited when," and she looks around, "when I handed you that sword the night we stopped Virion's debt collectors. What's with the hesitation now?"

"Can we not talk about this either?" I ask.

"You did say 'anything else,'" she reminds me.

"Oh, fuck off!" I snap back, and someone in a tent nearby snores sharply, reminding me to keep my voice in check. "Look, it's nothing. Okay?"

She frowns. "It very obviously is not nothing. I'm not going to make you do anything, so you can stop worrying about that. I just want to know what's up. I know I seem like a… what did you call it? OCD, I think it was. Anyway, I know I can seem like I want to micromanage everyone and mold them into my perfect little soldiers. To an extent, that's not… wholly unfair to say, really. But I'm also doing my best to make sure that everyone is alright in their heads too. If there's something eating at you, it's my job to make sure there's at least one person willing to listen."

 _I worry for you, being so recently introduced to the life of a soldier. If you've any stresses that ail you, I want to know about them._

"That's great and all, but I'd really prefer not to get into it."

"I mean, if you prefer, we can take another look at which path to Darros Town offers the least net risks when we account for weather, possible brigands, known Risen portal locations–"

"God almighty, please stop."

"Then tell me what's up, Randall."

I can tell from her expression that she really does mean the best for me. I suppose I also believe her when she says she won't force me to do anything. I sigh. "I guess the best way to put it is that I'm a little afraid."

"Of what? Combat?"

"Kind of? Not the fighting itself, I guess. Like, I'm not scared of getting killed or anything." Not anymore, anyway.

"I… see," she says slowly.

"Like it's not the enemy that's scary. It's me. I've had to kill a few times now, and while yeah, they were bad dudes and it needed to be done, it's still got me a little… wigged out."

"Why's that? Do you feel bad for doing it?"

"Not exactly. It's more that I feel bad that I don't feel bad, if that makes sense. Like I think I should feel the emotional weight of killing another human, even if it's a human that probably deserved it. But I don't really feel much of anything."

She's quiet for a moment. "I mean, is that a problem?" she finally asks.

"Don't you think so?"

"I don't know. I would think it makes a soldier's job easier. If you have to kill either way, I mean… doesn't it make it easier to deal with?" Now she's frowning too. She turns to face forward.

I shrug. "I don't know either. I'm certainly not an expert on the subject. Before this summer, I'd never killed anyone before. Hadn't been a soldier before. Really, I'd never met anyone that you could say needed to die. This is all pretty new to me, even now. But I'd played plenty of games about killing people. Like, the objective was to kill the bad guys and save the world, but I knew it was all a game, so I didn't really feel anything most of the time. But now, I'm in a real war, fighting real people. And I keep waiting for it to hit me that it's not a game anymore. And it hasn't hit me yet. And I'm wondering when it will. If it will." I feel a lump in my throat.

Robin doesn't say anything for a minute or two. With her hood up like that, I can't even tell where she's looking. I feel like I should say something, but I can't think of what I can say after that.

Finally she speaks. It's hard to hear her over the wind. "I understand. I didn't think anyone else knew what that was like." Her words are slow, calculated. "As a tactician, it is my job to know the battlefield. To analyze the enemy, their strengths and weaknesses, and weigh them against ours. Where to move which troops, and when, and who to trust to carry out my plan. Whether we can win a battle just by taking out the commander, or whether we'll need to take out all of the enemy before we can say we're safe. How many people have to die. Which battles will give our soldiers the experience they need to survive the next battle, or two battles, or however long the war takes. Numbers. Probabilities.

"When it comes to battle, people can be broken down like that. How hard they can hit, and how hard the enemy's armor looks. What tome the enemy mage is using, and whether our myrmidon will survive if he's hit with it. Whether or not we can get everyone out alive. So far the answer has been yes, but I don't know if it always will be. And if it's not, how many can be saved. Who should be first priority, and who is expendable. I think about all of it, all the time." She looks at me, but in the dark and under that hood, her expression is hard to read. "I break the enemy down into their numbers, and work out the best way to beat them. I break our allies, our friends, into numbers too, and stack those numbers against the enemy's. And I'm _good_ at it. Really good. Dehumanizing the battlefield, making it like one of those strategy board games I've been playing with Virion, is easy, almost second nature. It scares me sometimes how easy it is."

I nod slowly. I understand everything she said, but I'm still processing it.

It looks like Robin really does read the battlefield like it's a game. Like a player does.

"Well, I'm glad you're so good at what you do. Your strategies work, and they've saved our asses. Every person in this army has you to thank for leading us to victory in every situation," I say.

"I know. That's what I tell myself. This army needs me to do what I do. I have to be impartial, able to make the tough choices. So far, the choices I've needed to make have been easy, because none of our friends have had to die. But I wonder, if the time ever came when there was truly no way we could get everyone out… how easy it would be for me to give an order that I knew would result in a Shepherd's death. I guess I'm scared that I would let the number-crunching, unfeeling side of me make that call, and I wouldn't understand in that moment the gravity of what I was doing. And by the time I did, it would be too late for it to mean anything."

I'm not sure how to say what I'm thinking. How do you say something that addresses basically the same problem you're trying to solve for yourself? "Looks like in a way, we're kind of in the same boat. Maybe to a lesser extent on my end, the way you tell it. Well, let me put it to you like this: I've never been scared of putting my life in your hands. I know that on the battlefield, I can count on you not just to do the expedient thing, but the right thing. You're right that so far, the two have been one and the same, but if you ever have to make that call, I trust you. More than I trust anyone else to make a decision like that. Moreover, I've seen you with the others. You try harder than anyone to make time for everyone in the Shepherds. You're always making sure people are doing alright, just like you did for me tonight. I saw you dancing and singing with everyone else the night we all sang as a group. I'm not scared of you losing sight of the humanity of the people around you. I'm not saying it's dumb to be worried about it, but I want you to know I don't think you'll turn out like that. If it helps to hear it from me."

I can't see the top half of her face at all, and her flat mouth makes it impossible to tell what she's thinking. Wordlessly, she scoots a little closer and throws her massively-sleeved arms around my shoulders. As best as I can manage wrapped up my cloak like this, I awkwardly try to hug her back. We sit that way for a couple minutes while she takes slow, deep breaths. When she pulls back and scoots away, her hood slips down. A guilty smile plays across her face.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. I just… I needed to hear that. Thank you."

I smile back as best I can without my teeth chattering. "Any time."

Robin looks up at the sky. "It's looking like it's about time for third watch. Let's go get Lon'qu."

I stand up, my joints popping from stiffness as I do so. "Gotcha. I'm ready to go to bed."

She rolls her shoulders out as she stands as well. "No kidding. If we're going to Darros Town tomorrow, it's going to be a long march."

I chuckle. "So is that your final decision, boss lady?"

"Yes, yes it is. I agree. Everyone needs a detox in town, I think," she says.

We get the next watch up, and retire quietly to our tents. I lie in bed and stare at that black tent flap for a while.

* * *

" _Oh, fuck off!"_

 _I wake up with a shiver; it looks like this tent isn't the best for stopping winds of this strength. At the very least, I notice, it isn't thick enough to stop the words on the wind from drifting past the tent. He sounded so frustrated just now. What is he talking about? I don't recall who else is on watch tonight._

 _As aware as I am that it is incredibly uncouth to do so, I will admit my curiosity gets the better of me. Being careful not to nudge the lightly snoring Lissa as I do so, I crawl to the front of the tent to hear better what is being talked about._

" _Like it's not the enemy that's scary. It's me. I've had to kill a few times now, and while yeah, they were bad dudes and it needed to be done, it's still got me a little… wigged out."_

 _That's Randy, no doubt about it. Is he afraid of something? Something he did?_

" _Why's that? Do you feel bad for doing it?"_

 _So that is the person with whom he is having this conversation._

" _Not exactly. It's more that I feel bad that I don't feel bad, if that makes sense. Like I think I should feel the emotional weight of killing another human, even if it's a human that probably deserved it. But I don't really feel much of anything."_

 _These worries are plaguing him, and he said nothing to me? He promised to confide in me if there were ever concerns that he couldn't handle alone, yet here he is, trusting someone else with these feelings he never shared with me? Does he think me a child? Someone who can't be trusted?_

 _I remain at rapt attention, listening to him pour his heart out to Robin. Hearing him share these thoughts that haunt him makes me want to cover his head and protect him, as well as beat him over that same head for lying to me about such important matters. I want him to trust me the way he seems to trust her._

 _After a time, the wind gets so strong that I cannot hear them anymore. Agitated and cold, I duck back into my bedroll. I don't know what, if anything, I will say to him when next we speak alone. A few minutes later, I hear them stroll past the tent. I lie back and try to get to sleep myself._

 _Beside me, Lissa snores peacefully as ever._

* * *

Did I mention that the day after second watch duty is always awful because you don't feel like you got proper sleep the night before? Yeah, that's still true, except this time, with snow. And wind. And snow being swept around by the wind. I don't like it.

But there, on the horizon. Could it be? Yes, it's a town. Civilization! Food! _Fire_!

I turn to Vaike, marching beside me. "Do you see it? Darros Town! There's our destination!"

He cracks a grin. "Looks like it. I'm about ready to get out of this wind, I will say."

"By the way," I say, eyeing his torso. "Have you considered putting on a cloak, or maybe an actual shirt for starters?"

He raises a hand. "Hold that thought. Something's going on up there."

I look up ahead too. He's right; looks like quite a few people are rushing to get outside the town walls. We're a little too far back to hear them very well, but I could swear I hear the word 'bandits' as they come streaming out.

Oh boy, did my dumb ass just walk us into a paralogue?

* * *

 **A/N: Hey there kids! In celebration of the fact that finals are coming to an end for me, I took the opportunity to churn out another chapter. This one got a little heavy, huh? I hope y'all liked it nonetheless. I'm trying to come up with a way to differentiate between scenes that are from another character's perspective versus dream/flashback sequences without getting either confused with real-time Randall scenes. Maybe I could put one in bold and the other in italics? Maybe it's fine as is? Let me know what you guys think. As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**

 **P.S. Since last chapter went up, this story passed both 150 faves and 250 followers! Thank you all so much for the support! I hope my work lives up to your expectations!**


	18. Ch 18: Kellam Goes Full Chad

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 18: Kellam Goes Full Chad**

"Everyone! The town is being set upon by bandits! We are moving in to stop them before it's too late!" Chrom shouts behind him to the rest of us.

Yup. My dumb ass walked us into a paralogue.

Up by the gate into the town, the fighting has already begun. While the bandits stand atop the wall firing arrows down on those closer to them, Ricken, Miriel, and Robin lob magic attacks up at them in response. With all the heat and light being thrown up, the archers have a tough time aiming and aren't having much luck hitting anything. Meanwhile, I see Virion climbing atop the wooden weapon supply wagon and take aim.

"Have at you, fiends!" he cries, letting an arrow fly. It finds its mark, striking one of the bandits and sending him toppling off the wall and crashing in a heap on the ground. The others soon follow, clearing the wall and making entry into the town possible.

Robin calls everyone together. "Alright Shepherds, the name of the game is speed and coverage. We get in, we take out the enemy, and we do it before they can harm the townsfolk if possible. I want small strike teams, each with a healer and a ranged attacker. The rest of the team will be melee attackers. Cordelia and Sumia, I don't want you two taking to the air today; there are too many potential vantage points for an archer to fire from, so dismount for today. Let's go!"

The Shepherds scramble to form teams, with groups quickly forming around each of the healers. Looks like we've got four groups of mostly five, except for one team that has to go without a medic. I was unsurprised to have Frederick make a beeline for me, no doubt still not trusting me to be on my own in combat. The others on my team are Cordelia, Donnel, and Virion.

I glance over at Maribelle, who's with Stahl, Panne, Gaius, and Ricken. She's currently fussing over the young mage, straightening out his clothes and such while he visibly protests. We haven't spoken today, but I guess there wasn't really a chance to with all the mountainous trudging we had to do. I decide to walk over.

I place a hand on her shoulder. "You alright?"

She doesn't look at me as she says, "Yes. Don't fret; I am sure it will be fine."

"Uh, right. Be careful, okay?" I say.

"I will. You do the same," she replies.

I nod and rejoin my group. Looks like Virion will be riding with Frederick again today. Cordelia looks fairly confident, with her lance resting at her hip while we await orders. Donnel looks like he's doing his best to imitate her, but when he does it, it looks kinda goofy. Points for trying, I suppose. That leaves me the coveted position of fifth wheel.

We form up at the gate, where Robin stands with Chrom, Vaike, and Sully, apparently making up the healerless team. "Okay everyone. Spread out and keep an eye on each other. If we can do this in one sweep, that would be best. Lon'qu, you lead your team up the west side of town. Frederick, your team will handle the east. My squad will move up the center of town. Stahl, your team will focus on clearing out anything we've missed on the south side of town. Let's go!"

We form up, with Cordelia and Donnel up front where their lances will be most effective and Frederick taking the rear position. From atop the horse, Virion can safely fire over our heads if the need arises. I'm right in the middle, presumably where it's safest.

We march carefully up the wide road, checking briefly in each corner and alley for any sign of the enemy. Suddenly, a door bursts open on the right side of the road, and a woman scrambles through the doorway, falling onto the ground outside the building. She crawls frantically away, and a second or so later we see what she's running from: a pair of bandits are chasing her, swords in hand.

"Aww, come 'ere, beautiful. I'll be sure to treat you real ni– guh!" one bandit says, interrupted by the impact of an arrow entering his shoulder. While Virion readies another arrow, the bandit snarls, snapping the shaft of the arrow in his shoulder and starting forward. Noticing me, the uninjured bandit brandishes his sword at me and rushes forward. Before I can raise my staff to defend myself, though, Donnel and Cordelia both leap between me and the bandit, raising their lances in what looks like it might have been a pre-rehearsed maneuver.

"Rragh!" Donnel shouts, swinging the end of his lance out to knock against the sword's blade and take the balance and power out of the swing. Before the bandit can regroup, Cordelia is following up, jabbing with precise, calculated movements once, twice, and on the third stab Donnel joins in to finish him off.

The bandit is very quickly very dead.

Meanwhile, the one with the arrow in his shoulder has foolishly decided that Frederick will be his opponent. The bandit attempts a stab at Frederick's horse, but the Great Knight swings his axe down and hooks the blade's crook around the sword, then twists, pulling the sword from the man's grasp. He manages a brief "Yeep!" before Frederick relieves him of his head.

"Good work, all. Remain diligent, however. Doubtless there are more ahead," Frederick calls to us.

The townswoman we saved from the bandits looks up at him with borderline reverence. "Thank you sir, thank you all! These ruffians have spread all over town, plundering our belongings and taking our folk as prisoners! Please help rid us of these monsters!" she cries.

"Worry not, madam. The Shepherds will clean up this mess posthaste," Frederick replies.

"Thank you again! Gods bless you!" she says, then runs back the way we came, no doubt to get out of town while the getting is good. I definitely don't blame her.

As if on cue, four more bandits round the corner up ahead and notice us. Virion starts opening fire, but one of the four is an archer as well and wastes little time returning fire. Donnel takes a hit in the abdomen and drops to a knee, gasping for breath.

"Donnel!" Cordelia shouts. She turns to me. "I'll hold them off. Help him!"

I nod. "On it," I say, and lay Donnel on his back while Frederick gallops past us and Cordelia rushes ahead. I tear the fabric of his tunic to get it out of the way, but I can't do anything about the chain mail that the arrow has penetrated. This is going to be a messy removal.

Nonetheless, I grasp the shaft as closely as I can to the abdomen. "Ready?" I ask. He nods with a grimace. Aaaand pull! Fortunately, I feel the arrow dislodge from his body, but it's still tangled up in the mail. Donnel gasps in pain. I get my staff ready. "Almost done. Just a second," I say gently, and let the magic flow. I would only later reflect on how second nature a simple heal like this feels by now.

The pair of us spend a few moments twisting and yanking the arrow until it finally comes loose from the mail. I turn to look at the action up ahead, and find that by the time we were finished, the trio up ahead has dispatched all the bandits.

I cross over to them while Donnel gets himself in order. "Anything?" I ask.

Virion nods toward Frederick. "Sir Frederick has sustained a leg injury, Randall." I come around the horse and see it's no lie; Frederick's thigh must have taken quite a blow from someone's blade.

I raise my staff. Frederick growls as I close up the leg wound, though whether in pain or in disdain, I cannot be sure. Looking me sternly in the face when it's done, he says, "My thanks, Randall. If Donnel is ready, let us keep moving."

The battle more or less continues in this way. It seems like we caught the bandits off-guard when they were ransacking the town, so there isn't a lot of cohesion on their part. Instead, they're all broken up into groups of two to four, which makes taking them out a lot easier for our squad of five. We were fortunate to show up when we did, at least as far as keeping the Shepherds safe goes. Of course, whenever we pass by a slain resident of the town, of which there are more than a few, it's a reminder that it certainly isn't a perfect solution. Ideally, we could've been here before the bandits even arrived.

As we move farther and farther up the street, I wonder faintly how much faster we could have gotten here, and if it could have made a difference. I come to no conclusions for the time being.

At last, we come up to where the street opens up into the square on the north side of town. Already, Robin and Chrom's team is engaged with a bandit with a somewhat familiar face.

Oh! It's, uh… it's either Victor or Vincent. I won't lie, I can't tell them apart. Regardless, he and his axe-wielding henchmen are going blade to blade with Robin, Chrom, and Vaike, while Sully circles the skirmish on horseback and takes stabs when she can, keeping the bandits in a tight spot while Chrom and Robin use their longer weapons to dominate the pace of battle.

If it weren't for the surprising speed and power of the twin, the battle would have been over quickly. As it is, Robin's squad has needed to be careful, as they lack a healer, and that axe looks like it hits like a truck.

Fortunately, that's where I come in. However, just as we're about to go out into the square to help out, Virion cries from the back of Frederick's horse, "Behind us!"

I barely have time to turn my head to see what he's yelling about before a group of about a half dozen bandits smashes into us from the south. Virion is knocked off the horse, and it looks like his leg has been hit. Frederick, despite staying ahorse, looks like he's been jostled too. Donnel and Cordelia turn quickly, but they can't reposition quickly enough to get to the enemy before they get to me.

Block! Now duck the second swing! Bring the staff around and hit him, then pull the staff away before he can grab it. While he's off balance from the attempt at the grab, right hook to the face. Now his sword is low to the ground; kick his wrist, hard. There goes the sword, and he's disarmed. Now, get ready to take him out.

Wait, no, now raise the staff just in time to block the horizontal swing from his friend. Fortunately, there's Donnel, stabbing him in the side while he's preoccupied with you. The first guy is scrambling over to get his sword. Kick him in the side; now he's on his back. Bring the staff down on his face. Crack his nose. Swing again. That probably broke something in his temple. Swing again. Again. Again. Once he stops resisting, stomp his face.

That probably did it. At the very least, his own mother wouldn't recognize that face after today. I choose for now to believe he could have survived that.

The others are cleaning up nicely as well. Despite our initial surprise, Frederick rallied quickly, and once he regained control, the bandits' time was limited. That said, there isn't a person among us that didn't take some significant damage. Virion probably broke his leg somewhere, Frederick is bleeding freely from several gashes, Cordelia took an arrow to the thigh and is clutching her limply hanging shoulder, and Donnel looks like someone just broke his jaw. When the thrill of adrenaline starts to wear, I realize that at some point I too took some cuts. Oops.

I take a swig of vulnerary that Cordelia brought with her, then get to putting everyone back together. Meanwhile, Frederick asks, "Where did those bandits come from? I'm sure we didn't miss that much on the way up the street."

Once Donnel's jaw is put back in place, he says, "Ow! Sir Frederick, could it be that these here bandits weren't with the others we fought on the way in? Maybe they invaded the town, just like us."

Cordelia nods, gritting her teeth as she waits her turn to be healed. "I agree. We might be looking at a second invasion force."

Virion looks concerned. "Should the team led by Stahl not be holding back any enemies to the south of us? How could this many foes have broken through?"

I blanche. "Maribelle." I get to my feet. "We have to go make sure they're okay!"

I take off running down the street. I need to get to them now. Sooner than now.

"Hey! Randall! Aren't you forgetting someone?" Cordelia calls after me.

"Unless you're dying, it can wait!" I yell back over my shoulder.

If they say anything else, I don't hear it. I'm probably being less cautious than is appropriate, not checking any corners or alleys as I run, but honestly, if someone is already dead, then getting taken out by a bandit isn't a bad option.

Finally, the street opens up into the south side of town. There are a lot more bodies here than there were before. Where are the Shepherds, though…?

There, I can see Maribelle's blonde drills. Thank Christ. She's kneeling over something. Or someone. Oh fuck.

I sprint over to her, and before she turns to me, I can hear her sobbing as her Mend staff glows brightly.

"Come on, come on! Not you, please not you!" she wails, shaking the staff in frustration.

"Maribelle? What's happened?" I ask as I approach.

She turns to look at me. "Another force showed up at the southern gate. Their leader carried a massive axe. He was yelling something about his brother, I think." So it looks like the other twin showed up too. That's not how I remember it going. Wonder what's up with that. "There were so many. Everyone else had to fall back to keep pace with the invaders. But… we weren't fast enough." I come around and see she's trying to heal Ricken, who's taken several severe blows to the chest. He's not moving.

"Is he…?" I ask.

Instead of an answer, she sobs again and turns back to his prone body. "Please, gods, not him! He's just a boy! Please!"

I gulp, my gut tightening as I put the situation in perspective. It seems like that's a wrap for this run, then.

I'm already thinking of the next step for myself. First, I need to make sure she doesn't follow me. "Maribelle, I need you to stay with him. Keep trying to heal him. Can you do that?" I ask.

She turns back to me, her puffy red eyes contorted in a half-quizzical look. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to get help. Just stay here, okay? I'll be back," I say, already moving away from her.

"I… Okay," she says, uncertain. Good enough for me. As soon as she turns back to Ricken, I start running. I need a surefire way to get this done. I nearly trip over a fallen bandit, bringing me to a stop. I look down at him, and next to him is his dropped shortsword.

That'll do.

I grab the sword and sprint for the side streets. I need a place where no one will find me and, God forbid, heal me after I fall unconscious from blood loss. I duck into a small alley and find a door to one of the buildings that line the east side of town. Fortunately, it's unlocked, so I slip inside.

Looks like this is a bar or restaurant of some sort. I look up, and see there's a sort of loft that overlooks the main floor of the bar. I can't see much of the back wall from the door, so that means if I get against that wall, that should provide ample time. I climb the small staircase and lean against the back wall. For the first time I really look at the sword in my hand. I realize with a start that every time I've died so far, it's been someone or something else doing it for me. I've never had to straight up commit seppuku before.

How hard can it be?

It turns out, quite. I raise the blade and point it at my chest, but that's as far as I get before every fiber of my body starts screaming at me not to do what happens next. It would be so easy; just pull your arms in as hard as you can, and the rest will take care of itself.

I suppose I should clarify. In freshman high school biology, when we did our blood unit and were testing our own blood types, it took me a full minute to convince myself to prick my finger to get the blood sample. My body is apparently super hardwired to be reluctant to let itself come to any harm at all. Even now, when I know how important it is that I do this, I hesitate.

I hear a galloping outside. That must be Frederick riding to the south side of town to see what the problem is. I'm running out of time.

I breathe once, twice. I angle the blade so that, hopefully, when I stab it in under the ribs, it will penetrate the heart or at least come close and hit an important vessel or two.

I think of Ricken. He's a good kid. He doesn't deserve to die, not in a war like this, and certainly not to some lowlife bandit paralogue losers.

I think of Maribelle. How devastated she looked. The way she sobbed over his body. I can prevent this. I will prevent this.

I'm going back.

My brain lights up in panic as the sword enters my chest, pushing organs and vessels out of its way as the cold metal seeks my heart. I'm not exactly sure if it finds it, as the adrenaline fortunately numbs the pain of this catastrophic blow pretty effectively. I do, however, lose almost all of my remaining energy in seconds, so I fall against the wall, my back leaning on the sturdy wood before I drift off to the side and slide down to a sort of fetal position on my side.

More enemies are coming from the south. The other twin is coming. Remember that.

* * *

 _The battle has more or less wrapped up, from what the others are saying. A few straggling bandits have yet to be taken down, but they're already on the run, so the day is won._

 _At what cost, though? I can't seem to bring myself to move from this spot, even though I put down the Mend staff a while ago._

 _A gentle hand touches my shoulder. "Maribelle?" It's Lissa. "We should meet up with the others and make sure everything else is okay. People are going to need healing."_

 _I give a most undignified sniff, wiping my eyes with my sleeves. Got to pull it together. "You're right. Let's make sure everyone else is alright."_

 _Randy said he was going to get help, but he didn't come back. I hope he just got caught up somewhere else and had to start helping another group._

 _We meet up with the others. There's Chrom and Robin, standing over the body of the leader of the second force._

" _I should've seen this coming when the one called Victor mentioned he had a brother," Robin says sourly, rubbing her arm gingerly. Wordlessly, I approach and close up the relatively minor axe wound in her forearm. "Thank you Maribelle," she says._

 _I patch a few people up, taking stock of those still around. Got to make sure everyone else is still safe, at least. As if reading my mind, Robin says, "A few of us aren't here. Stahl and Panne went chasing after the ones who fled, but they were both fine from what I saw, so I'm not worried about them just yet."_

 _Once I've counted those still here, I turn to Robin. "And Randy? Where is he?"_

 _Robin's eyebrows fly up. "He wasn't with you? Frederick said he bolted for the south side of town to find you."_

" _No. I mean, yes, he did find me, but he left just moments later. He said he was going to get help. Did he never find any of you?" I ask. I can feel my chest tightening in panic already._

 _Robin looks at Chrom, who shakes his head and looks equally alarmed. "We never saw him."_

 _My hands drop to my sides. "Oh gods." I start running for the east side of town. That was meant to be where his team was fighting, so I would expect he would take that path again._

 _The streets are choked with the bodies of bandits and townsfolk alike. "Randy?" I call. "Randy! If you're here, call out to me! Randy!"_

 _I walk up and down each alley and side street, calling for him. Eventually, down the road I can hear Robin and Chrom calling for him as well._

 _I start trying the doors of buildings. Most buildings are locked up, but every once in a while I find an unlocked door and search the interior of the building. I find nothing, except occasionally a body of a resident or, even more rarely, a bandit. Still no sign of him._

 _I enter an eatery of some sort. Though no one seems to be on the main floor, I spot a staircase to the upper floor overlooking the rest of the restaurant. There's no reason for him to be up there, but at this point, in my desperation I'm checking every corner of every room._

 _I climb up the stairs. At first it looks like there's nothing._

 _No, what's that dark shape against the wall?_

 _I walk over slowly, shaking hand outstretched._

 _I touch the shape. Fabric. Familiar fabric._

 _I turn the shoulder slowly so the body faces me._

 _My hands automatically leap to cover my mouth._

 _It doesn't help._

 _This can't be happening. This can't be. Not him. Not Ricken and him in the same day. I lose control of myself. My mouth opens, and I scream. I scream so hard and so loud that my ears ring painfully, and I can feel my throat thrashing itself from the inside as air and sound rip out of me with no regard for anything else but the man curled on the floor in front of me._

 _I drop to my knees, throwing his hands, still wrapped around the sword's handle, aside. I wrench the blade out of him with a sickening_ squelch _as the suction of the blade finally lets go. I raise my staff._

" _Please no, please no, please no! No! NO!"_

 _The door downstairs crashes open. "Maribelle, are you alright?" Chrom calls from downstairs._

" _Not this! Don't do this!" The wound won't close. It won't close. Why won't it close? I know I was angry with you, but I don't want this. We were going to work things out. You were going to learn to trust me._

" _Oh gods," I hear Robin say as the pair of them ascend the staircase._

 _I'm sobbing openly. This is too much. The gods are too cruel._

" _Is there anyone left around?" Chrom asks. "Are we still in danger?"_

 _A moment later, Robin responds, "No, I don't think so. We are safe. No one else is here."_

 _I turn to her, brows furrowed in anger. "How can you say we're safe? Look what's happened!"_

 _She looks past me at Randy's body. "It is strange, though. No blood anywhere else. No sign of a fight in here. Was someone chasing him? Why would he take cover by himself in an empty building rather than trying to get to his allies? Where did his killer go?"_

 _I spring to my feet. "Who cares? You're obviously missing the point! He. Is. Dead. He said he was coming back. He said he was going to get help. But he… he…" And just like that, the tears resurface. I fall to my knees. I'm sorry. I'm sorry._

 _Chrom takes a knee next to me and wraps his arms around me. The gesture of kindness just makes me cry harder. I bury my face in his shoulder and wail._

 _I hear Robin walking away from us. "I'm going to take a look around. I need to make sure that if there's a killer still loose in the town somewhere, that we find him."_

 _Chrom looks back at her. "I'll come with you," he says, loosening his grip on me and starting to get up._

 _Robin responds, "No, Chrom. If we're both going to search, we should split up. We will cover more ground that way."_

 _I'm still looking at the floorboards as Chrom speaks. "If you say so. I'll check the buildings north of here, and you check the south, then?"_

" _Right. Let's move quickly."_

 _They start to move toward the staircase. I remain on the floor. I turn back to Randy's body. I can't read his expression. What he may have been thinking as he…_

 _I hunch over his body, grabbing fistfuls of his robes as the sobs return._

* * *

"Ugh, I forgot about that."

I didn't get the proper night's sleep I would have liked on account of the second watch last night, so when I wake up today for the second time, I'm reminded how tired I was. Am. Whatever.

I get over it quickly, though, when I remember what's coming up today.

At first I was wondering if maybe I should tell Robin we should skip town after all, but recalling all the townspeople I saw lying in the streets, I let that idea go quickly. Plus, shouldn't we have met an Anna (or two, if the Victor and Vincent paralogues really did get smashed together)? Were we just too late to save her?

Therefore, instead of trying to dodge the battle, my new idea is just the opposite: we need to get there even earlier.

That's why I'm going from tent to tent, shaking everyone I find from sleep and telling them to get a move on.

When I get to Maribelle and Lissa's tent, I find the former arranged at such an odd angle that it's a wonder she can sleep that way at all. Meanwhile, Lissa's mouth is hanging wide open, drool spilling out the side of her mouth and down her cheek. Very princesslike.

I shake the pair of them by the leg to try and wake them up. Lissa just sort of moans her protests about waking up, but Maribelle gives me a not-gentle kick with a socked foot for my trouble. Well thank you very much, duchess.

Once she actually wakes up, though, she changes her tune a bit. "Oh, Randy, it's only you," she says, sitting up. "Wait a moment. What on earth are you doing in our tent?" She attempts another kick, but I move back enough to avoid it.

"I'm just here to wake you up and make sure we get an early start," I say, raising my hands conciliatorily. Lissa moans again.

"What do we need an early start for?" Maribelle asks.

I make something up quickly. Or I guess half make it up. "Robin wants to make sure we can avoid the weather she thinks is coming our way later on today."

Maribelle scowls. "Oh, well if that's what Robin wants, I suppose I'm in no position to disagree." She crosses her arms.

I raise a brow. "Something the matter?"

She looks away from me, down at Lissa. "Nothing, nothing. Just go wake up the others."

"Uh, alright," I say, closing the tent flap behind me. I go around a few more tents, waking up their occupants, before running into Robin.

"Oh, good morning Randall. What are you doing?" Robin asks as I duck out of Stahl and Kellam's tent.

"Just making sure everyone's up and about. We should probably get a move on, right? You were worried before about making good time," I reply.

She nods. "Right. We should. Thank you for that. While you're making sure everyone's up, I'll start getting the caravan ready to move."

I could swear she was looking at me for a bit after I walk away from her.

You know, there was something about that conversation I had with her last night that isn't sitting right. I'm having a difficult time putting my finger on it right now, though…

Oh well. There's bigger things to worry about now. Like getting our asses to Darros Town as soon as possible.

Fortunately, once everyone's gotten the sleepies out of their system, we get moving pretty quickly. Last time we did this trek, I wouldn't say we were slow, but we definitely weren't in a rush. Today, however, the 'let's just get to town so we can enjoy some actual civilization' mood spreads like a virus, and soon everyone is chomping at the bit.

That said, I'm still tired as hell from last night, not to mention irritable on account of having to do this entire day's hike for the second time, so after a while I steal away into one of our supply carts to take a breather.

After a little while, it seems I wasn't the only one who had this idea, as Lissa climbs into the wagon behind me. As she brushes the snow and dust off her, she squeaks in surprise when she looks up and sees me.

"Randy! You jerk," she says, flopping down on the crate next to me.

"I don't follow," I reply soberly.

"You scared me," she says, pouting.

"I think you scared yourself there, actually."

"Whatever. Anyway, what's up?" She drops her pout.

"Just taking a breather. This Feroxi weather is no joke. Not to mention the terrain."

She chuckles. "No kidding. I forgot you've never been to Ferox before. You were with Maribelle last time we had to come this way."

"Speaking of the duchess," I say. If anyone would know what's up, it's Lissa. "She's been kinda short with me today. Know what's up with that?"

She shrugs. "I guess I noticed? If you don't know what you did to irritate her, it probably isn't that big of a deal, to be honest. She's the type to get cross at something as small as a misaligned button, so at some point I learned to just let her be annoyed sometimes."

My shoulders slump. "Fair enough. I feel like it only came up when I mentioned Robin's orders this morning. Maybe that means something."

To my surprise, Lissa laughs. "Yeah, that sounds like her. She's totally the jealous type, I mean. If she feels like you've been spending too much time with Robin, it's not surprising to hear that she's in a poor mood with you."

"Well what the hell? Does she not trust me or something?" I ask, incredulous.

"Trust me, it's not you, it's her. Well, unless you and Robin really are up to something." Her eyes narrow. "Are you?"

"No!"

She raises her palms, as if to say 'well, that's that.' "Then yeah. Although, can you really blame her? Robin's kinda got it all. She's pretty, and smart, and really funny when she wants to be. If there's someone to get jealous over, she could do worse."

"Pff. Robin's as neurotic as they come. She'd drive me insane if we were, you know, together or anything. She's the queen of the Type A personalities."

"You _do_ spend a fair amount of time with her, though," Lissa points out.

"I mean, yeah. We're friends. She's easy to talk to. It seems like she understands others almost intuitively. But just because we've gotten to be pretty good friends doesn't mean anything untoward is going on or anything," I retort. It's no wonder she can support with everyone in the game, I think to myself.

"Fair enough. Anyway, as long as you're not actually doing anything bad, I'd say you should just give Maribelle some time. Or if she's up for it, maybe you should take her on a real date for once."

I frown. "It's not like there have been a whole lot of opportunities out in the middle of nowhere."

"I know, I know. Just a thought," she says, getting up to hop out of the wagon. Not long after, I follow suit.

* * *

I'm not sure how much earlier we arrive back at Darros Town, but it's at least early enough that the attack hasn't begun yet. While we're still at a good distance from town, a man comes rushing out toward us.

"Are you the military?" he asks.

Chrom speaks for us. "We're the Shepherds. We represent the country of Ylisse."

"Good enough for me! There's word that a group of bandits has set its sights on our town! Please, please help us!" the man pleads.

"Of course, sir. We won't let anything happen to you and yours," Chrom declares. He turns to us. "Shepherds! To arms! We're going to make sure this town stays safe from harm!"

I breathe a sigh of relief. We made it in time. Now all that's left is to not die. And make sure no one else dies. You know, easy stuff. I wonder briefly if there's time to grab a nap.

Looks like that won't be happening. I can see down the hill to the northwest that the bandits are already approaching. I guess we made it with almost no time to spare.

Someone else comes out of the town as we approach. Oh hey, I recognize that hair. Hi Anna!

One of the twins (I still don't remember which one it is) leads his men toward the town.

Anna calls out to them, "Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I'm afraid this village is closed."

The twin calls back, "Well, aren't you a fetching young thing? And fetching young things fetch good coin. In fact, the gold you net from the slavers will build Vincent a fine home!"

Aha! This one is Victor. That's been bugging me for a while.

"Careful, love. Us traders are known to make some very deep cuts," Anna replies, sliding her sword out of its sheath and pointing it at Victor. I will say, even if I knew that line was coming, it still sounded pretty badass. Even though Anna is smiling, everything else about her body language promises violence if he takes another step toward the town.

Victor raises his arms, and the bandits behind him charge at the gate. It seems that this time it's going to be a much more straightforward battle.

The Shepherds scramble to form a lineup, but by the time the bulk of the bandit forces get to us, we've gotten more or less organized. Those that can tank a hit or two (Chrom, Frederick, Kellam, Stahl, Sully, Vaike, and Panne) make up the front line, while our more DPS soldiers (Miriel, Lon'qu, Ricken, Virion, Gaius, and Donnel) take advantage of the gaps by either sneaking in a stab or lobbing over a projectile, and the healers and I hang back and try to mitigate damage as much as possible without getting in the way. Meanwhile, Sumia and Cordelia can take to the skies much more safely out here, so they're doing their best to keep the bandits boxed in while avoiding any archer fire from the enemy.

While at first Anna seemed determined to open up some bandits herself, once she sees how efficiently our war machine is working, she opts instead to take on a healing role with the Heal staff she carries with her. It definitely takes some of the strain off Lissa, Maribelle, and me to have another healer with us.

With the archers preoccupied by our fliers, the enemy has no real ranged support of its own, leaving their melee attackers basically without any recourse except to keep pressing forward and hope to split a gap. However, there isn't really any hope of breaking through our tanks with all the healing support the four of us are able to give them. Whenever one of the bandits breaks off and tries to go around us, one or two of our mages are ready to vaporize them from behind.

It all feels very satisfyingly _300_ , overall. Even though we are outnumbered by a pretty good margin, it doesn't matter if none of them can break through our wall, and they can't. Pretty soon, all that's left is Victor, who looks more than a little shaken at the thrashing his men were just given.

Anna strides forward before any of us can make a move on Victor. "If you please, Shepherds. He's mine. He and his associates have been harrying me and my sisters for quite some time now. I'd prefer to put an end to this myself."

He looks like he's about to shit himself. His eyes constantly flit around, looking for some kind of way out.

Chrom speaks up. "I'm not opposed to the idea, but if he tries to bolt, my mages will cut him down. Agreed?"

Anna nods. "As fair a deal as I've ever heard. Well then, Victor. Shall we proceed?" She flips her blade confidently in her hand.

Victor swallows, and grimaces. "Rrgh, fine! The gold I loot from your corpse will make Vincent a very rich man!" He springs forward, axe raised.

Anna dodges his first strike easily, hitting his axe with her sword more as a taunt than anything. He recovers quickly, swinging for her neck, but she sees it coming a mile away and ducks, giving his leg a small cut as she sidesteps away and stands up again. Victor barks in pain.

"What's the matter? I thought you were going to make a 'fetching' slave out of me, isn't that right?" Anna asks.

Through gritted teeth, Victor replies, "Not anymore. Now I just want to scalp you and keep that pretty red hair for a trophy!" He leaps forward again, taking another massive swing at her. Again, she dodges, nicking his arm for good measure. She's having way too much fun with this.

Victor raises his axe again, but this time feints in one direction and quickly swivels to the opposite side, catching Anna in the shoulder with the blade and making her cry out in pain. Now it's her turn to grit her teeth.

Still, she has her strong arm left unharmed, so she recovers quickly enough to get in a strike on his back before he can get away again. This fight is taking a lot out of both of them.

Victor growls, charging at her and throwing his axe at her, forcing her to put enough attention on dodging it that she can't prepare in time to avoid him tackling her, knocking her sword loose from her grip.

The pair struggle on the ground for a moment, with Victor throwing punch after punch and Anna struggling to get his hulking body off hers. A few Shepherds start forward to try to intervene, but Chrom holds up an arm to stop them.

"She asked for this. Let her follow through."

Finally in an advantageous position, Anna brings her knee up straight into Victor's crotch. A few of the men, myself included, cringe at the sound it makes, and Victor squeals in pain. He's disoriented just long enough for Anna to get out from under him. However, instead of going for her sword, she just whips around and gets on top of his back, pulling something from her boot as she does so. It's only when she cuts Victor's throat that I see it's a small knife she kept near the top of her boot.

"That's what happens… when you come after my family," Anna says between gasps for breath. Victor tries to stay up, but between Anna's weight on top of him and his own wounds, he collapses in seconds. Anna wipes her blade on his shirt and stands, picking up her sword.

She walks up to us healers. "One of you fine folks mind closing me back up?" she asks. "If you do, I'll make the healing I did for your guys on the house."

Lissa takes over, closing up Anna's wound. "That was amazing!" she says.

"A girl tries her best," Anna says, smiling a knowing smile. "Still, I have to thank you as–"

"VICTOR!"

Everyone turns at once toward the source of the noise. A little ways away, there stands Vincent, along with his own troop of bandits.

So it looks like we really are handling two paralogues' worth of enemies today. Fun stuff.

"That traveler was right! Victor was in trouble! I wasn't fast enough!" Vincent sobs toward Victor's corpse. Then he turns toward his men. "TAKE THEM APART!" he shrieks.

The bandits spring into action, more quickly than we can get back into formation. If we were still trying to hold them back from getting into town, we would've lost for sure. However, it seems these guys have no interest in taking the town at all; they just want us dead.

By the time the Shepherds get our bearings, we are surrounded. The tanks are doing fine for the most part, but now our squishier allies are having to fight for their lives too. Naturally, the healers have a much more difficult job now, as we have to juggle a lot more people that need healing in addition to having enemies coming right for us.

As I close a particularly nasty shoulder wound on Lon'qu, I feel a searing pain in my lower abdomen. Ah, I've been stabbed in the back, I realize as I fall to a knee. At least I can tell he missed the spine. Before the guy can finish me off, though, Lon'qu whirls around and blocks the sword before it can come down on my head. As best I can, I turn around, hitting the side of his knee as hard as I can with my staff. It gets the job done; he falls to a knee as well. He's too busy blocking the next swing from Lon'qu to avoid my staff connecting with his head, knocking teeth loose and sending him toppling over. I look up and see that Lon'qu is already preoccupied with another guy trying to take a swing at a wounded healer (that's me) to handle this guy on the ground, which leaves him to me. This stab wound is already taking a lot of strength out of me, I realize as I hold the staff over my head. Using my whole body's weight, I bring the staff's point down onto the bandit's chest. It gets the job done. The guy isn't moving anymore.

As my vision starts to blur, I realize I'm getting dangerously close to losing consciousness. This is _not_ the time or place for that, no matter how close we might be to the finish line. Gotta find something I can use.

Before my hand even approaches his sword, though, I feel the sharp, itching pain of healing. It hurts like a bitch, but I find my vision actually clears as the healing magic passes through me. Looks like I didn't pass out from the healing for once.

And now someone is helping me up. Oh, it's Anna.

"Thanks. I owe you one," I say once I'm on my feet again.

"Careful about saying that kind of thing around me," she says with a wag of her finger, then she leaps back into the fray.

Though the battle is certainly no picnic, soon we have whittled down their numbers to a scant few. Unlike with Victor, no one is taking any chances with Vincent, so he's currently fending off attacks from Chrom, Robin, Lon'qu, and Stahl all at once, putting him at such a hilarious weapon disadvantage it almost seems like bullying as he gets taken down by a precise slice from Lon'qu. The remaining bandits don't last much longer than their leader.

As the last man falls, everyone takes what feels like a collective deep breath. A few people sit down exactly where they were standing the moment Robin calls the all clear.

I look beside me at the people nearest to me: Donnel and Cordelia, who are taking turns sipping lightly from her vulnerary.

"That was… I'll say less than fun," I say at last.

The pair of them look at me for a moment, and after a moment a burst of tired laughter escapes all of us.

We made it. All of us. The town is safe. Victor and Vincent are both defeated. We can finally, finally rest.

* * *

"Does it really count as a date if most of the rest of the Shepherds said they also plan on going there?" Maribelle asks, eyebrow raised.

"I think so! We'll get a separate table. I think someone said they have a separate VIP room or something," I say, smiling earnestly. "Besides, everyone in town has been saying that if you stop in Darros Town, then eating at Maria's is a must."

"I suppose I have heard similar rumors about its relative quality…" she says slowly. "Fine, then that is what we'll do."

"Woohoo!" I shout, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. "I gotta go make sure we get a spot in the VIP room, so I'll come get you later!"

She places her fingers on her cheek. "Alright, Randy. Be back soon."

* * *

"You're just in time, mister," the lady I assume is Maria says as she fills out something near the bottom of a sheet of paper she's got with her. We're standing outside the building on the street, where Maria (or whoever this is) has been taking reservations for the VIP room inside the restaurant. "That was the last table. All yours for the evening."

I hear a _thwack_ and an 'Ow!' behind me. Oh. It's Vaike and Sully, the former of whom is rubbing his shoulder.

"I _told_ you we'd need to get here faster to get a spot, Vaike!" Sully reprimands him.

"I'm sorry! How different could the first floor be?" Vaike asks defensively.

"It's the principle of the thing," Sully growls.

"Alright, alright. Next time I'll make the reservation super early, then."

She raises a brow. "Oh, you're already talking about a next time. That's some confidence, axeslinger."

He smiles. "You know me."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh boy, do I. Why am I doing this again?"

Maria clears her throat, and I realize I've been staring at them. I turn back to her.

"So, table for two at sundown, then?" I ask.

She smiles cordially. "You've got it."

Excellent. Now I just have to tell the fetching troubadour.

* * *

Hahaha. Oh man. You've gotta be kidding me.

 _This_ is Maria's?

 _THIS_ is the VIP room?

I stand at the top of the stairs, trying not to look at the wall I died leaning against a little while ago.

"Randy? Are you alright?" Maribelle asks, standing on the stairs behind me.

Remembering myself, I shake my head. "Uh, yeah, no problem. It's just really nice up here, so I was taking it in."

"Well make way then, and let me see," she says, climbing the stairs to my level. "You're right! What a charming little loft!"

"Right. Let's see… our table is over here," I say, gesturing to one of the small tables near the railing overlooking the main floor. We take our seats. Maria (or whoever) quickly emerges to take our orders, then retreats to the lower floor.

For a moment, we don't say anything. It's as if I can feel the stress of the last few weeks slowly seeping out of my body. Based on her expression, I'd guess she feels the same way.

I give a nervous laugh. "You know, it's been quite a few months since I've been on a real date," I say at last. "I don't know if I remember what to do, exactly."

She flushes. "I, um… I've never really… been on one at all, actually."

I'm startled. "Whoa, really? Never? I would think the daughter of a duke would be quite the popular girl with the lads."

She gives a small, half-hearted chuckle. "I thought something similar, in truth. I suppose it was a few things that have kept me single all these years, though. Firstly, the same reason you stated: my station. Even if technically social custom these days dictates that people can romance whomever they choose, regardless of class, in truth it can still be difficult for those of lower standing to pursue someone of higher wealth. Additionally, I suppose… well, you could say my particular attitude toward the lower-born might have been, shall we say, less than cordial?"

I raise a brow. "Should I tell you I don't have more than the clothes on my back and the money in my pouch to my name? If that's a dealbreaker up front I'd prefer to know."

She lifts her hands. "No, no! I admit, if you had met me at an earlier point in my life, you might have had… poorer luck. But these days I am doing my best to treat even those with little material wealth with respect."

I smirk. "How magnanimous of you, then."

She scowls. "Well excuse me. I did say I'm trying, did I not?"

"I know, I know. Just teasing you a little."

"You're certainly fond of that, I notice."

I shrug. "It's my personality. Plus, you make it so easy." I reach over to pinch her cheek, but she swats my hand away.

"Anyway, as I said, that was one cause of my perpetual singlehood. The other major one was simply a lack of people to even consider. Oh, thank you," she says as Maria brings us our dinners. Mine is a simple (read: cheap) roast and potato dinner, while she has ordered some garishly decorated poultry bird of some kind. My meager wages cry in my pouch. She stabs her bird absentmindedly with her fork as she goes on, "I spent much of my youth training to be a healer, you see. For the most part, it was other girls that kept me company during those years. Even when I eventually moved to Ylisstol on a semi-permanent basis, I did not meet many eligible bachelors, as my administrative duties kept me busy most of the time. I mean, outside of… Well, no matter. The point is, I had neither the appropriate attitude, nor the opportunity to meet a man that I could have gone on any romantic outings with."

I take care to swallow the whole bite before giving my response. "Wow. So in that case, even if the date goes terribly, it's still the best date you've ever been on? That's a relief."

She laughs quietly. "Yes, I suppose that must technically be true."

"So, what did you always imagine a date would be like? Your ideal date." I lean forward a little.

She considers for a moment. "Well, firstly it was not meant to be in the middle of a war. So that's already a departure. I also admittedly never pictured a small, out of the way town like this for the setting. I suppose I always imagined a fine, sophisticated luncheon at a diner in Ylisstol, followed by a stroll through the royal gardens. Perhaps we would go on a ride on horseback, or a short excursion on a gondola down the Ifrain River for a while. We would return to town, where after a modest supper he would escort me by the light of the moon, the stars, and the torches lining the streets back to my home. If it had gone especially well, I will admit I picture a kiss goodnight. Then we would part for the evening." By the time she's done speaking, she's gone quite red.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised her ideal date is so… fine, I'll admit it. Stereotypical. If you've never been on a date before and your only experience with it is stories you've read or heard, I could see where you'd build up an image like that in your head. Looks like I've got a big order to fill.

"That sounds really nice," is what I actually say.

"Have your dates in the past been anything like that?" she asks a little apprehensively.

Oh boy. "Umm… kinda? Some of them? I've never been on horseback on a date before." How on earth do I explain how a dinner and a movie date works to someone who wouldn't be able to conceive of what a movie is? Oh wait, I know! I'm a moron. "A lot of the girls that I have dated have been really fond of seeing plays on stage, so that was a pretty frequent date location for me."

"A 'lot of'? How many girls have you dated?" she asks. I can't read her expression.

Oh balls. I misspoke. "N-no, I meant, a lot of dates that I have been on _with_ girls have ended up at places like that."

"So you've been on a lot of dates, then?"

Damn, girl, cut me some slack. "Over the years, I guess I'd say… more than a few?"

"And yet you were still single and nomadic when you met the Shepherds," she says levelly.

"I mean, yeah, that's right."

"What became of all those relationships?" she asks.

I shift in my seat. This is not how I meant for this conversation to go. "Well, you know. Things change. People's priorities change. Sometimes it becomes evident that your life and the life of the person you're dating are going in different directions. Sometimes one person is much more committed than the other, so much so that the dynamic falls apart. Lots can go wrong."

"Were you the one that has trouble committing?" she asks. Jesus Christ, she's sitting there like a sniper, taking shot after shot.

"Sometimes, yes, other times it was the girl that didn't want to commit to me," I say. "Can we talk about something else? I don't know if you know this, but this is hardly first date conversation."

She blinks, as if something clicked in her head. "Oh. Of course. How silly of me. My apologies, Randy."

I breathe a sigh of relief inwardly. "So, how's the, uh, dinner?" I ask.

She smiles for the first time in a while. "It's surprisingly excellent, actually. I had admittedly worried about the ability of a small rural town like this to produce such quality food, but it seems my worries were unfounded. And yours?"

"After the day we had, I think I'd have happily eaten a boot. That said, this is really good too."

"That's true as well. We did have quite the day. Such a large pack of bandits! I don't believe I've ever seen a group of ruffians of that size before," she comments, punctuating the thought by taking a bite of bird.

"And the fact that we came out on top is always a nice touch," I say.

She chuckles. "Of course. Otherwise this restaurant would no doubt look much different right now."

I glance at the wall. My food sticks in my throat for a moment.

"Randy? Are you alright?" Maribelle asks.

I swallow, hard. "Yeah, I'm fine. My food just picked the wrong tube for a moment."

Her expression shifts. "You know, I saw what happened today. With that bandit, I mean. You had to… dispatch him. Are you alright after that?"

I point my fork at her. "Pro tip for you: that too is not exactly first date conversation material."

"I'm serious!" she protests. "If you need to talk to anyone about it, or anything, please come to me. Alright?"

"Maribelle, I have no idea what you mean. I'm fine. It was in the heat of battle. I needed to keep Lon'qu safe. He was a lowlife murderer, and it had to be done to keep the Shepherds, and this town, safe. That's all there is to it."

"But there's nothing lingering on your mind? I want to help!"

"I appreciate it, but there's nothing I actually need. I promise, I'm fine. If I have to kill again, I will be able to, no problem," I say, exasperated.

"That's not what I'm talking about!" She's raised her voice to what I'd call inappropriate levels. "Just talk to me!"

"I am! There's nothing I'm going through that I need you to worry about too!" I match her volume. Honestly, I'm getting tired of this.

"Why don't you trust me?" she demands.

"I do! I literally have no idea what you're talking about!" I say, my voice pained, as I just want this argument to end.

She doesn't say anything for a moment. "Fine, then. I'm sure you'll just lay out all your worries with Robin later, regardless. She must be such a better listener."

What the hell? Does she know about what Robin and I discussed on watch last night? How could she have heard all of that? "Maribelle, is something the matter?" I ask.

She stands up. "No, nothing is the matter. I'm going to retire for the evening, I think. Good night, Randy." She starts to make for the stairs.

I grab her hand. "Maribelle, hold on! What's going on?" I ask a little desperately.

She jerks her hand away. "I just want to go to bed. Please don't follow me."

I stand in stunned silence as she stalks down the stairs and out the door. I look over the railing down at the main floor, where most of the rest of the Shepherds are sitting at a long table eating together. As the door shuts, quite a few Shepherds turn to look at me. I quickly sit back down and tear viciously back into my roast.

How did she hear about what Robin and I discussed? Did Robin herself tell her? That doesn't sound like something Robin would do, unless she thought she was helping. I guess I never expressly told her to keep it a secret. Even so, what is she so upset about? That I had a conversation about killing people with Robin? That I didn't want to talk about it with her just yet? She's the one constantly worrying about everything! I just wanted to spare her some worry when I could. I don't understand what I did wrong, if anything.

After a while, the roast is gone. Maria appears at my shoulder, taking my plate.

"I take it you're paying for the pair of you, then?" she asks. I think I hear the theme to _Curb Your Enthusiasm_ in my head.

I begrudgingly agree, pulling some gold out of my pouch. I don't allow her to take Maribelle's plate yet, though. She left quite a bit of her dinner behind, and I'll be damned if I let that go to waste on top of everything else.

God damnit, it does taste really good.

I glance over in the corner briefly, where it looks like Miriel is doing something really weird with her face. Oh wait, no, I just didn't see Kellam over there as well. Aaaaand they're currently leaned over the table, sucking face, without a care who sees. Great. It looks like Miriel might also be taking notes on the experience while they're doing it, perhaps to comment on their performance later. I try not to look at them anymore.

After a while, Kellam and Miriel, along with a lot of the Shepherds, have left Maria's. I didn't want to endure the shame of going downstairs with so many of our comrades watching, so I've stayed camped out at the table, waiting. When Maria appears to ask when I'll be heading out so she can clean this table, I snarl, "I reserved the table for the whole evening, didn't I?" Taking a hint, she backs off.

Still, I can't stay here all night. I descend the stairs and take a look at who's left. Sully and Vaike are sitting across the long table from each other, talking about some battle or other. Stahl and Donnel are sitting by each other, discussing different horse feeds or something. I turn around and take note of who's at the bar. Along with a couple strangers, Gaius and, of all people, Sumia are seated on barstools.

Wait! I just realized! This restaurant has a _bar_! That means I can finally get a God damned drink!

I take the stool next to Gaius. The bartender looks me over, cleaning a glass. He's not a terribly large man, but he makes up for it with an impressive Honest Abe-style beard.

"Gotta say, mister priest, I don't get a lot of men of the cloth coming to me for a drink," he says.

"I don't doubt it. All the same, I'm no priest. I just think the robes are neat," I say.

He shrugs. "Fair enough. What'll it be?"

I have no idea which kinds of liquor actually exist in this world, I realize. I can always pass it off as an 'it's a Valmese thing' if he doesn't have it, I suppose. "Got any whiskey?"

"How strong you want it?" the bartender asks.

Gaius intervenes. "Did you see that blonde who went stomping out of here a while ago? That was his. He needs a strong one for sure."

I scowl at him, but I guess I can't say he's lying.

"Hah! I saw her alright. Tell ya what, buddy. If you promise to stay for at least two more after this one, the first one's on the house. Everyone needs a loosenin' up after a fight like that," the bartender says, already pouring a glass.

I should really say no. We're gonna be back on the road again by tomorrow, I remind myself. If you're hungover on the road, you're in for a bad time. This is a bad idea, frontwards and back.

Instead I say, "Hell yeah, I can't turn that down. But only if Gaius hangs around for just as many."

Gaius claps me on the shoulder. "There we go, Bear! Bouncing back is half the game!"

I take a swallow from my glass. Oof, that is some stiff stuff. "Anyway, Sumia, I didn't really picture you as the drinking at the bar type, to be honest."

She leans forward so she can see me. "I'm not. I'm only here because Gaius said he wanted to show me what honey mead is. We may have had a little, um… mishap, with honey before, you see. So he said to put that behind us, we have to have some honey mead to show those bees who's boss."

Uh huh. Sounds to me like Gaius just wants to get you drunk, Sumia. "Well, just be careful about how many you're putting away, there," I say.

Gaius turns to me. "Do I detect a hint of suspicion in your tone? Are you suggesting, sir, impropriety on my part?"

I lightly slap the bartop. "Not so, sir! I merely caution the young lady on the potential hazards of inebriation! Especially for one already so afflicted with coordinative deficiency."

Gaius sips his own drink. "Hmm, a point most deftly made. Yet still, in the company of her trusted compatriots, she need not expend mental labor concerning herself with the potential consequences of said inebriation, for she can presume the goodwill of said compatriots."

I take another swallow of my whiskey. "Perhaps 'twould be so, but for that I submit to you that not all compatriots in present company have surely led a life of propriety thus far. Did you not, sir, once engage in certain illicit activities, perchance of the larcenous variety?"

Gaius takes a mighty swig. "Good sir, you go too far! To impugn the honor of a man merely for the stains of misdeeds in years gone by!"

Sumia raises a hand. "Um! What are you two even talking about?"

Gaius and I look at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing.

Once I recover, I say, "Oh boy, I needed that. Thanks, Gaius."

He raises his glass to clink it against mine. "Anytime, Bear."

* * *

" _I went up to my chamber, all for to take a slumber  
_ _I dreamt of gold and jewels and for sure 't was no wonder  
_ _But Jenny drew me charges and she filled them up with water  
_ _Then sent for Captain Farrell to be ready for the slaughter_

 _Mush-a ring dum-a do dum-a da  
_ _Whack for my daddy-o  
_ _Whack for my daddy-o  
_ _There's whiskey in the jar!"_

Remember how I said Gaius is probably the best singer in the Shepherds? It's still true even when we're several drinks in. I never thought I'd get a chance to bust out some of my old Irish drinking songs, but fortune has cut me some slack near the end of the night, I guess. Also Sumia sings along. She definitely does not get better at singing when fortified with mead. Not that it matters.

Besides, the spirited singing from the three of us rouses the passion of the other bar patrons, and soon we've got the whole bar singing about Captain Farrell and the deceptive Jenny together. No one except Gaius is very good at this point, and no one cares.

* * *

True to my word, we have gone through three drinks. And then a couple more. What? I'm really stressed about the whole Maribelle thing, not to mention everything else that's been going on. I needed to unwind for an evening.

To her eternal credit, Sumia tried her best to keep up with us, drink for drink. She ended up falling behind a few drinks in, but since she's a dainty flier woman, I'm pretty sure she's enough of a lightweight it barely mattered in the end. She's currently semi-shouting at us despite that we're sitting right next to her.

"I didn't _choose_ to be so clumsy! I just am! Evvver since I was a kid, I was always tripping over this, or falling over that, and it was always like 'Sumia! Just don't fall over stuff!' Annnd I'm like, 'Oh great! I'm sooo glad you told me that it's as easy as just _not_ falling over stuff! What a relief! I'm fixed!'" she slurs.

I lean forward. "That's some old bullshit, I say," I say.

Her eyebrows shoot up. "Right? A load of pegasus plop!"

Gaius giggles between us. "'Pegasus plop'? Thass the most adorable profanity I ever heard, Stumbles."

"See? He calls me Stumbles! Whassup with that?" Sumia asks.

"I think it's his way of showing he knows everyone. Like, when he gives you a nickname, it shows that he cares enough to remember something about you," I say.

Gaius nods sagely next to me. "Thass right."

Sumia shakes her head slowly. "Annnyway, I think I should go to bed. It's getting late, and they're gonna wanna get moving tomorrow." She tries to stand from her stool and promptly falls on her face.

To our credit, neither Gaius nor I laugh. We help her to her feet, and it looks like she's mostly unharmed. As we help her out the door, I call behind me, "Thanks man!" The bartender gives something between a salute and a wave as the door shuts behind us.

It takes quite a bit of effort to get Sumia back to the inn (graciously provided by Darros Town after today's save; we each get our own room tonight!) and even more effort to keep her relatively quiet, but somehow we manage to do both. Once she's good and tucked in (and there's a vomit bucket beside her bed, just in case), we both depart for our rooms.

Outside Gaius' room, we pause. I clap a hand on his shoulder. Quietly, I say, "Hey. I know you were looking out for me before. Thanks for letting me be a third wheel tonight."

He laughs. "You kept me on good behavior. That's all the payment I need for my service."

I nod and start shuffling toward my room. "Night, Gaius."

"Night, Bear."

I don't think of much of anything as I flop onto the bed, fully clothed and very warm despite the Feroxi wintry weather.

For once, I don't dream of anything, either.

* * *

When I wake up, I find that someone has pulled off my boots and pulled the blanket up over my shoulders. Or maybe I did it myself and just don't remember. Either way, fortunately my head doesn't hurt too much as Lissa makes her rounds, waking up all the Shepherds and telling us to get ready to leave town.

As we get the supplies loaded up and ready to go, Anna approaches us.

"So hey, I've been thinking," she says. "Are you Shepherds in need of some mercantile assistance? Maybe I could tag along with your lot. You'd never take a financial loss if you've got me on your side, I guarantee you."

Chrom and Robin eye each other for a moment. Chrom turns back to Anna. "You know what? I saw the way you stood by yourself to defend the town yesterday. And when you fought against that bandit chief, you weren't about to shy away from fighting alone when the fight really mattered. I think you've got the makings of a Shepherd." He smiles that charismatic leader-y smile of his. "Okay! Welcome aboard, Anna."

"Alright! Let me just get my cart…"

And just like that, there's one more Shepherd in our ranks. From there, we hit the road. The cold, unforgiving road.

We should arrive at the Feroxi capital soon. From there, shit's really gonna hit the fan.

Oh boy. I can't wait.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello again! Isn't summer great? I had time to celebrate the end of my junior year by writing by far the longest chapter of the story so far! Lots of stuff happening now. I considered breaking the chapter in half, but on consulting with my roommate and my beta reader, we collectively agreed there wasn't really an organic place to do it. So, instead y'all get the mega chapter. Hope you liked it!**

 **Speaking of my beta reader, Syntaxis really needs a shoutout! You should definitely check out "An Odd Awakening," as it's taking a lot of interesting risks with the old SI narrative. The boldness alone warrants a read. The story is still relatively young, but I for one am excited to see where it's going. Also, thanks a ton for some of the fixes that went into this chapter, Syn. I know for a fact it's better for your having looked over it.**

 **Additionally, I would like to thank everyone that takes the time to review, especially to tell me which elements of my story I've been neglecting or approaching in an odd direction. It helps to keep me grounded and put my story back on track when I get perhaps too ambitious for this stage. In particular, Ace of Spades and A-non-knee-moose, thanks for the frequent feedback!**

 **As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**


	19. Ch 19: Chrom Thinks about Punching Me

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 19: Chrom Thinks about Punching Me**

Normally I walk toward the front of the caravan, but in our haste to get on the road, I had to have my usual strategy meeting with Robin while the command cart was already in motion. As a result, when I hop out of the cart, I find myself in the middle of the group. I'd prefer to be at the front of the pack with Frederick, ready to respond if we meet anything on the road. I feel too insulated here.

On my way to the front, though, I'm given pause when I see her. Well, the back of her. But that distinctive curling hairstyle is unmistakably hers. To this day I have no idea when or how she finds the time to maintain it that way.

She rides alone, stiff in the shoulders and seemingly going out of her way to keep her head facing forward. I've known her long enough to know what she looks like when she's upset. That is one upset Maribelle.

Should I say something? I only caught the very end of whatever she and Randall were fighting about last night, but it sounded serious. We've had so little time to talk lately. If I'm being honest with myself, I miss it more than I thought I would. Normally I can't stand something as sedentary as taking tea for hours on end and chatting about nothing of real substance, but she's always made it easy somehow.

"Hey, Chrom," Lissa says, tugging on my cape behind me. "You doing okay?"

I turn to look at her as we walk. "Hardly. There couldn't be much more worry on my mind, really. The more that I hear about the conditions of West Ylisse, the more sure I am that we shouldn't have let Emm go like that. We received reports that Lord Aventine is still unaccounted for, which doesn't bode well. Robin's a pragmatic woman, but she's hardly the type to soften alarming news. She doesn't like the timeframe we're looking at. The supplies we picked up in Darros Town will prove useful, but any amount of time lost is just that: lost."

"I'm… trying not to think about that right now, actually," Lissa says, looking down for a moment.

"O-oh. Sorry," I say, trying my best to be gentle and brotherly.

She looks back up. "No, I was talking about… you know…" She nods up ahead.

"Lissa, this is hardly the place to talk about that!" I protest. I really do not want to have this conversation right now.

She frowns. "We're pretty much only on the road like this these days. If there's another time or place to talk about anything, I sure don't see it."

I don't respond for a moment. She's got a point, I can't deny it. "Well then, yes, I'm doing alright in that regard."

"Are you sure?" she prods. "It doesn't bother you at all to see her with someone else? I mean, I see you make googly eyes at her whenever you think no one's looking."

"I'm sure that Randall is being more than cordial with her. I mean, this recent fight notwithstanding. As long as she's happy, that's all that matters to me," I say, admittedly a little sullenly. After my talk with Randall the other day, I can't even deny that he's a well-meaning man. He genuinely seems to want the best not only for Maribelle, but for me as well. Well, not counting what Frederick is constantly insinuating about him, but frankly all that is a little hard to believe even now. He just seems to be an odd, but kind man. Makes it impossible to dislike him as a partner for her without admitting my own bias.

"Right, you sound so happy," Lissa deadpans. "Look, I'm not trying to say that you should wedge yourself between them and try to break them up or anything. I'm just trying to make sure that you're, you know, doing okay. It can't be easy to see her with someone else, even if it's one of our allies she ended up with."

"Lissa, I have bigger things to worry about," I say, exasperated.

"I know, I know. But this war won't last forever. When it's over, I don't want you to have any… I guess regrets?" Lissa replies, sounding unsure.

"If I don't stay focused on the war effort, then my regrets will be much bigger than whether I managed to nail down the girl I was most fond of. I have to focus on keeping her, and everyone else, alive. I know it's different for you, because you don't lead this team, but for me, I have to be a leader first, with everything else in a distant second until the conflict is ended."

Her brows furrow. I accidentally struck an old, yet still sore, nerve. "Hey, it's not like I don't _want_ to lead at all! Every time I try, you and Emm have blocked me from getting actually involved. I get shut out of council conclaves, out of strategy meetings; I don't even get to be in the command tent with you and Robin working out a path for a day's march! I might as well not be a member of the Exalted family at all! All I get to do is hear about what I should be worrying about secondhand!"

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Lissa, like I've been trying to say: you don't actually want this. It's a constant weight on my shoulders, day in and day out. Robin seems to thrive on it, and good for her, but I don't want to lead; I have to. Emm is a symbol of peace and harmony, which is important, but it wasn't enough to hold back war after all. I'm the only one of us who can wield Falchion. I'm the one that has to take up the mantle when the time for diplomacy is over. Emm might think she can pull a peaceful resolution out of this even now, but it's my job to make sure that when she fails, we have something else ready. That's why we need Ferox. That's why I need to lead. That's why I have to stay focused. And that's why I have no gods damned time to worry about who the hell Maribelle is dating!"

Lissa is quiet for a moment. "...When."

"What?"

"You said 'when.' As in, 'when she fails.' You've already decided that she's going to fail. That she won't be able to keep order. Gods, Chrom, it's like you _want_ to go to war with Gangrel!"

I hadn't been thinking when I said that. I can't lie, though. "Maybe I do! The man is homicidally insane! Someone needs to put him and those that follow him out of their misery," I say bitterly. "After what he did to Maribelle, your best friend, I would think you'd agree with me."

"I still believe in our sister! I think that we can keep order, that we can still fix this. Not every war has to end with thousands of deaths, Chrom," she says. "You… you shouldn't want that. No matter what happens. We have to be the good guys. We can't be the people that want a ton of death and destruction, even if the other side might deserve it. Even if we have to do it."

"You're too young to remember it, Lissa," I reply. "But I do. The way he was. The way the whole country was. We weren't a nation of good guys. Ylisse sought to wipe the Grimleal from the earth, and we had the fervor to do it. The only thing we lacked was the resources. Men and weapons were in short supply, but it wasn't until our father was cut down that the will to slaughter the Grimleal even began to subside. If he hadn't died when he did, who knows when the war would have ended? No, there weren't any good guys in that conflict."

Lissa takes a moment to collect her thoughts. She faces forward as she says, "Well, like you said, I can't speak for the Ylisse of the past, because I don't really remember it. I don't think we have to be connected to that. You don't have to be like… him."

"Even when basically everyone older than you remembers how it was before? I was only, what, six or seven when Father was killed, but I will never forget it. The past isn't so easily left behind." I look down. "Maybe this war was inevitable."

She looks out of the corner of her eye at me. "Don't discount what Emm did for this country. Even if the peace she fought for couldn't last forever, it was still worth doing. It saved Ylisse, and probably Plegia too. I know we can bring that peace back, somehow."

My fist tightens at my side. "I'll make that peace happen. By whatever means are necessary."

Lissa frowns again, slowing down to let me outpace her. "Just… be careful, Chrom."

As if I'm not being careful already. As if I haven't been the one forging a path forward for the survival of Ylisse. As if she has any idea what it's like to be in my position. Any right to look down on me and tell me I'm wrong to want to avenge the Ylisseans that have already died in the Mad King's war.

What on earth is Emm thinking? The time for peace passed when Gangrel's men invaded Themis, didn't it? Gangrel was after war, and our only options were to fight back or give up. But it still seems like Emm refuses to do either. How can she be that way? How long can that keep up? Peace is good, but we have to earn it. She just wants to demand it and expect it to happen. You can't just answer 'No' to a war challenge. If someone's coming after your loved ones, you fight back. And if they keep coming, you've got no choice but to kill them before they kill you or yours. I've always trusted her, but this… It seems shortsighted. Naive. Childish, even.

I'm in a bad mood now. In the evening, when Frederick and I are sparring, I hit him with a Luna strike harder than I meant to. Lissa looks at me in concern as she puts his shoulder back together. I find I can't meet her eye.

* * *

"Ah, Lord Chrom. Welcome back. Khan Flavia has been waiting for your return," Raimi says, gesturing for me and the rest of the Shepherds to enter the palace.

"Thank you, Raimi," I say as we pass through the doorway and, at last, out of the cold. I feel, rather than hear, a collective sigh of relief from the others as they experience the very welcome change in temperature.

We get settled in, at least as much as necessary, but I'm already antsy to get moving for Ylisse once again. I find myself pacing the grand hall up and down for much of the afternoon, despite Frederick's request that I lie down and get some rest.

"Frederick, how on earth am I supposed to rest?" I ask incredulously. "The moment the Khan's forces are ready, I want to be back on the road as quickly as possible. I can't afford to rest right now."

He stands firm, as always. "My apologies for my impertinence, milord. I merely am concerning myself with how you will fare when we begin our return journey. It would hardly do to have our commander overly fatigued before the journey homeward even begins, wouldn't you agree?"

"I don't have time to rest with this much at stake, Frederick," I counter. "If I were to lie down and try to rest now, it would just cause me to knot up my idle muscles in worry. This way, I'm staying loose, ready to move at a moment's notice."

Frederick nods. "Very well, then. I will leave you to it."

Robin enters the grand hall, carrying with her a small sheet of paper, no doubt from one of her informants. I've learned to hate those missives lately.

I sigh. "What have you got, Robin?"

She holds up the paper, as if I hadn't seen it hanging at her side. "Grim news, I'm afraid. The report suggests that an invasion force will arrive at Ylisstol soon. Sooner than we could likely get back, even if we left right this minute. It's likely that when we return, the capital will be in a state of total siege."

"That's…" I'm not sure what to say. I feel a tightening in my chest. Is this the peace you thought you could bargain for, Emm? Is this what you going back has bought us? I feel fear and uncertainty grip my heart like a frosty metal gauntlet.

I didn't see or hear Lissa come in as well. She's saying something, but I'm only half-listening, or perhaps quarter-listening. It's a sort of vague buzz in my ears as I try to grapple with this news.

It looks like quite a few Shepherds have entered the grand hall now, most of whom stand near the wall. I notice Maribelle lingering to the side, a noticeable distance from Randall. She looks as worried as the rest of the Shepherds at hearing this news.

I don't know what I can say. There's nothing to say. We were too slow? We shouldn't have let Emm go back? The city of Ylisstol has just about no chance of surviving a siege without the Shepherds there to break the invasion? Is that what anyone wants to hear?

Lissa is in front of my face. "Chrom? Say something! Say, 'Yes, of course we will!'"

I hadn't really been paying attention to whatever she was talking about. "...I'm sorry, Lissa. What?"

She turns around, throwing her hands up in frustration. "Ugh, fine! Never mind! Let me know when you get out of your own head for a second!"

Oh, I'm sorry Lissa, did I forget to drop everything on my mind to address whatever it is you were going on about? It's not like we just got the worst news of the entire war just now or anything. I manage to hold my tongue, but not by much.

When did Sumia walk over to us…?

"Snap out of it, Captain!" she cries.

 _WHAM_

My vision lights up in painful stars as my neck whips around from the force of the right hook Sumia just delivered to my face.

A rush of blood fills my face, and I feel my temper rise instantly. "OW! What the hell was that for?" I demand of her.

Her hands immediately fly to her face, already deeply reddening in shame. "Oh no! ...Did I do it wrong? Captain Phila said sometimes a good slap will break someone out of their doldrums," she attempts to explain around her hands.

I can't tell whether Lissa looks aghast or if she's stifling laughter at the ridiculousness of all this. "Sumia, when you slap someone, you do it with an open palm. You just punched Chrom in the face!"

If possible, Sumia reddens more deeply. "Um... It's the thought that counts?" she offers weakly.

My cheek feels incredibly hot, and I can feel a bit of swelling already. "Gods, that seriously hurt…" I say, my temper beginning to cool even as I say it.

Nearby, I hear a few of the Shepherds doing their best to keep from laughing themselves. It seems that even in the midst of impending chaos, these knuckleheads can still find something to smirk about. The realization takes some of the edge off my anger and fear. They're holding onto hope, enough so that they can smile even now. Maybe I need to be able to do something similar.

Just then, a familiar voice interrupts my thoughts. "Ha ha! What's wrong, my dear prince? Sometimes love hurts! You're lucky to have strong women like these, and not just dainty flowers about." Khan Flavia has arrived at last. She plants a hand, hard, on my shoulder. "In any case, I bring good news. The Feroxi army has finally mobilized. Every last man is itching to fight. I must say, I'm looking forward to savoring a skirmish or two myself."

Finally! I feel a weight lift from my shoulders at this news. Oh, wait. She just removed her hand. Even so, we can finally get a move on. Hold on, though. She just said something odd. "...Wait. You're coming along?"

Flavia guffaws. "Of course! A khan must have her fun. I'm even bringing my insignificant other."

"Your who?" I ask, in spite of myself. I just can't picture this woman being the type to marry.

"Basilio," she says simply. "The oaf isn't good for much, but he might stop a few stray arrows. In any case, he is bringing along his division as well. They should arrive first thing in the morning."

Ugh. More holdups. "My thanks, Khan Flavia," I say as sincerely as possible without betraying the impatience and irritation underneath. "Ylisse owes you a debt."

She waves a hand. "Nothing to concern yourself with just yet. We've just as much a stake in stopping the Plegians as you. No one supposes that Gangrel will truly be content to stop at just conquering one of our nations. This enemy of yours is an enemy of ours as well, make no mistake."

I nod. "All the same, your help is appreciated."

She beams. "In any case, you and yours are welcome to stay the night. I hope you'll find our accommodations to your taste."

"I'm sure we will. Thank you again, Khan," I say, and the Shepherds disperse to prepare for staying here tonight. I know better than to go and get my own bag; I wouldn't be surprised if Frederick has already gone out to the convoy and brought it inside himself.

* * *

Even though we now have a specifically set time for our departure tomorrow, I still find that I can't settle down. The khan was kind enough to offer me use of her training yard to practice. Throwing blow after blow at the wood and metal dummy feels good, but a little muted. I really need to let off some steam.

I whirl Falchion around and stake it into the ground, getting into a hand-to-hand combat stance. I throw a jab, then another, then a third at the dummy. It hurts, even though I'm wearing gloves. It feels good.

Left hook. Right jab. Solar plexus, then face, then throat. Hit, hit, hit. Duck. Weave. Where is he going to be? Where will he open himself next? I picture Gangrel's face on the dummy. For a while, I picture my father, too. Soon I imagine Gangrel again, though. Hit, hit, hit. No reprieve. No breaks.

I will admit, just once I imagine it's Randall. Just once. It was a good hit, though. Probably would've broken his nose. I suspect Frederick would be more than fond of such a prospect.

I'm still laying hits on it when I hear from behind me, "Milord?"

I pause mid-swing and turn. Of all the people it could've been…

"Good evening, Maribelle."

"To you as well, milord. I hope I'm not interrupting," she says. She holds a metal canteen out to me, and I accept it and take a few generous gulps. Feroxi spring water truly is something special.

"Not at all," I say once I've caught my breath. "I was thinking of calling it in here pretty soon regardless."

Suddenly, she gasps. "Milord! What on earth have you done to your hands? They're bleeding clean through your gloves!" She pulls out her healing staff seemingly from nowhere. "Let me take a look at them, please!"

I hadn't noticed. "Oh, so they are. Right then," I say, wincing as I pull the now quite worn gloves off. Underneath, my fingers are bruised and bloodied.

"Oh my goodness, of all the… Here, just a moment, and I'll have you fixed up," she says, holding her staff aloft. Light flows from the staff into my hands, and I suck air through my teeth to keep from groaning in pain as the digits are put back in proper order.

Once the job is done, I flex my fingers one by one to make sure they're all in working condition. "Thanks, Maribelle," I say, trying my best to look nonchalant.

She smiles at me. "My pleasure, though I must caution you about doing that sort of thing in the future. A broken hand can hardly heft the blade of legend, after all."

"As long as I've got someone like you around to put my hands back together, I'm not too worried," I reply. Whoa there buddy. She's got a boyfriend now, so you can't keep talking like that to her.

It's admittedly nice to see it can still make her blush a little when I do that, though. "You're too kind, milord," she says.

More to remind myself of the boundaries in place than anything, I ask, "So, how are you and Randall doing? It's no secret that the pair of you have had eyes for each other for a while, and all..." I falter.

The smile on her face cracks. "If I'm being honest, milord. And you cannot tell a soul, you understand." I nod. "It's been less than stellar lately, I'm afraid. It started off, I suppose you could call it emotionally heightened. He had just recently been nearly killed for what I believe was the third time in as many weeks. The relief at seeing him alive, along with… everything else that had been building up over time, I suppose… It led me to make some impulsive decisions. Not that I regret them! Not exactly. And it does seem that he returns my feelings, which is a comfort. But I'm beginning to think that perhaps… we rushed things. Or went about them in the wrong way."

I'm not sure what to say. I eventually settle for, "Sounds pretty complicated."

She nods. "It is. And normally, I'd have Lissa to talk to about such things, as we always have when young men have pursued her in the past. But in this case, I can't quite… It's not that I don't trust her. It's just that, well…"

"She's Lissa," I finish.

Her eyes light up briefly. "Exactly. So while she of course has my interests at heart, she might talk to Randy about these worries I'm having before I can work them through in my own head, and that would cause no end to my worries."

"I can understand that," I say.

"And I do apologize for bothering you with this. I know how busy you are with everything that's going on, so it's hardly fair for me to add my own personal drama to the pile," she says, suddenly looking quite guilty.

I give a small smile. "I can always make time for your worries, Maribelle," I say. She has a boyfriend, she has a boyfriend, she has a boyfriend, you idiot.

A smile breaks through on her face as well. "If you say so, milord."

I direct her to sit with me on a bench nearby. Before we sit, I have to clear off about six inches of snow that have accumulated on top. "So, what are you going to do?" I ask once we're seated.

"I don't know, to be perfectly honest. I don't want to just give up, because there is something there. I know that much. It's just… I feel as if he doesn't truly trust me," she admits.

"Why do you think that?"

Even on this dark, snowy night, I can see her redden slightly. "Truth be told, I did happen to overhear a conversation he had while on night watch not too long ago. He spoke with Robin about the worries that hang over him in regards to killing others. It's not my place to say exactly what he said, but… The issue is, earlier that very day he told me that he had no worries he thought worth sharing with me. That if he had any such worries, he would come to me. And when I heard him sharing those thoughts instead with Robin, it got me thinking about all the time he's spent with her. They seem to understand each other so readily. They get along so well, and I… admittedly, I get a touch jealous. There, I said it. I don't much like the way he seems to trust her more than me, then acts as if nothing is the matter."

I ponder what she said for a little while. Eventually, a response comes to me.

I can't believe I'm going to try to fix this relationship.

"Well, let me put it to you like this. Do you remember what you said to me earlier in this very conversation about coming to me?" I ask.

"I… I don't follow, milord."

"You told me that you didn't want to trouble me on account of all the other worries on my plate, right?" She nods. "Have you considered that he might be doing the same thing for you?"

She takes in my words for a moment. "You think he sought only to protect me from those worries he had?"

I shrug. "I guess I can't say exactly, but if I had to guess, then that's what I would say. Plus, as far as his desire to talk to Robin about it goes, let me put this to you. Should Lissa find out that you came to me with this, would she have the right to be upset about it? Should she feel betrayed?"

"Of course not!" Maribelle says, then pauses. "...I see. Perhaps that makes more sense than I gave him credit for. But it still suggests that he doesn't think me capable of handling his worries!"

"Maybe it does. Maybe you've still got to work some issues out. But I think both of you could do with seeing things from the other's perspective as much as possible," I say.

She smiles. "That's sage advice, milord. I must admit, I did not anticipate you being such a valuable source of wisdom on the subject."

I smirk. "Maybe I'm just more emotionally empathetic and sensitive than people give me credit for," I say. I think for a moment, pondering whether to ask the question on my mind. It's personal, probably too personal. Not to mention selfish to ask. I would be asking purely for my own benefit.

I decide I will ask anyway. I can't help it. "What is it about him that drew you to him?"

She considers for a moment. "I suppose it's the way he… I mean, the fact that…" she pauses again. "No, I'm not being honest. In truth, I would have to say I don't know. He just… did."

"Did what?"

"Make me care for him. I do care deeply for him, but even as I sit here talking to you, I couldn't tell you when I started to. Or even why." She looks down. I can tell something's on her mind. Is it my place to probe deeper? I've already broached a personal topic getting this far. Perhaps it's not for me to dig any more. I have no idea what to say. I end up saying nothing at all.

I want to say something, do something, anything to help. But there's nothing. Just like when I watched Emm walk away, back into the heart of danger. I just stood there, just like I'm sitting here now. I clench a fist, furious at myself for my inability.

She breaks the silence. "I should retire for the evening. It will be another long day in these frozen wastes tomorrow, after all." She stands up and heads for the door. "Good night, milord."

"Good night, Maribelle," I say as she heads inside.

When I was moving, it wasn't so bad, but when I'm just sitting on the bench, it starts getting cold very quickly. Eventually I decide I'll duck inside too. I doubt I can sleep very well, but I may as well try.

As I head up to my room, I find someone else that must be having a difficult time getting to sleep. Tonight's just chock-full of coincidences, isn't it?

"Ah, hey there Cap'n," Randall says, rising from the chair he was hunched over in before.

I hold up a hand. "Don't get up on my account, Randall," I say.

He pauses for a moment, then gestures to his already standing body. "Little late. Oh well. I guess I don't need to ask what's got you up so late."

"Is it so obvious?" I ask.

"In the sense that if I were you, and it were my sister in danger, and my country being invaded, I'd have a tough time sleeping too," he says simply.

I nod. "I guess that would make it pretty obvious, then. What about you?"

He waves a hand dismissively. "Oh, you know. Fun with funky dreams keeping me awake lately. I've got my own worries stewing about this war, too. Even if Ylisse isn't my home country, I do care about it."

"I appreciate it." He nods. "You know, if Frederick knew you were up so late on your own, he'd probably be pretty suspicious," I say.

"Well first off, I assume he does know I'm up. I figure it's safer to assume he always knows where I am and what I'm doing. And second, that's just who he is. If there were two of him, they'd hate each other because each of them would be suspicious of the other one spending so much time with you," he replies.

I laugh. "Not an unfair assessment. But he's been right enough times that I at least try to take him seriously most of the time." I haven't forgotten, Randall, what he told me about what he saw just before the first attempt on Emm's life. What he says he saw you doing. I've been giving you the benefit of the doubt, because I think you really do want to help this army, not hurt it. But I haven't forgotten. I don't tell him any of this, of course.

"I suppose after years of service, he's earned that much," Randall comments, shrugging. "Anyway, I really should try to get some rest. Same with you. We're back at it tomorrow, after all." He turns to leave. "Night, Chrom."

I open my mouth. Should I tell him about the conversation I had with Maribelle? Would it ultimately help things? I can't say, so I decide to leave it for now. "Good night, Randall," is all I say.

It does take a great deal of effort, but eventually, a fitful sleep does overtake me for the night.

* * *

"Our scouts have reported back. Dark news, I'm afraid… Your Exalt has been captured."

"What?" I demand, putting considerable energy into restraining myself from grabbing Basilio by the collar.

"The siege is ongoing, but it seems that Exalt Emmeryn never made it that far. She was intercepted east of Ylisstol, and has been taken captive by Gangrel. She's going to be executed one month from now."

The word hits me like a punch to the gut. "Executed?" I breathe the question like the word is poison.

Beside me, Lissa moans quietly, slipping and almost falling to the floor. Fortunately, she's caught by Robin, who lifts her back up until she can get her bearings again.

Flavia growls, "The bastard isn't even trying to be subtle at this point."

Robin nods. "Agreed. This reeks of a trap."

Basilio nods too. Apparently we've all been admitted into the Nodding Club. He starts saying something, but I can feel a fire building in my gut that blots out my senses. I haven't felt this in a long time, but it's unmistakable.

I felt this fire when I heard that my father had been killed.

The words spill out of me. "Shepherds! To arms! We're marching for Plegia, right now!"

Basilio rests a beefy hand on my shoulder. He clears his throat. "Well yes, that is one option, but I urge you to think–"

"This is no time for thinking!" I bark. "This is the time for action. He has my sister! That bastard has my sister, and he plans to murder her! That's all I need to know."

Flavia places a hand on my other shoulder. The pair of them force me to look at them. Flavia speaks up. "No one is suggesting we just leave her to die, Chrom. But we have to be smart about this. If this is going to work, we are going to need guts _and_ wits in equal measure."

Robin stands between them. "She's right, Chrom. I can do this. I can form a strategy to save Exalt Emmeryn."

When I look in her eyes, at the lightning crackling behind that look, I can see that she's not lying.

" _Not every war has to end with thousands of deaths, Chrom. You… you shouldn't want that. No matter what happens. We have to be the good guys. We can't be the people that want a ton of death and destruction, even if the other side might deserve it. Even if we have to do it."_

I swallow, trying my hardest to control the fire burning in my gut. I need someone like her to temper this fire. I need her guidance to point this fiery passion in the right direction.

"Alright, Robin," I say at last. "I leave it to you."

She grins with confidence, and a hint of something else. Something almost scary.

* * *

" _General, what's this I've been hearing about the Exalt?" Aventine asks the seated Berserker general, who is currently rubbing his forehead in contemplation. "That she's been captured outside Ylisstol. Is it true?"_

 _Mustafa sighs, lowering his hand and looking at the nobleman. "Yes, the rumors are true. She's been taken into custody."_

" _Dare I hope it's good news?" Aventine asks, almost holding his breath._

" _As much as I am fond of hope, in this case it's futile. Gangrel's men have her," Mustafa says._

 _Aventine kicks a nearby mug, spilling its contents onto the stone floor. "Damnation! What about Chalard and his men? Why weren't they the ones to find her?"_

 _Mustafa rises from his chair and picks up the fallen mug. Carrying it over to a nearby table, he says, "It seems Gangrel has reassigned Chalard's men to the northern desert. They were, and are, nowhere near Ylisse. I'm told it was General Campari who ultimately found her."_

 _Aventine's eyes widen. "Do you suppose he suspects something?"_

 _The general sits down again. "Who could say? Personally, I'm more inclined to suspect that witch of his is behind this. She's shrewd, and cunning, and certainly ruthless, but aside from that we know little about her, and even less about what she herself knows."_

 _Aventine holds his face in his hands. "Things are spiraling out of control so quickly, Mustafa."_

 _Mustafa nods slowly. "They are indeed. If things continue on this trajectory, we may not be able to accomplish everything in time."_

" _It's one thing if she came into our possession, but who knows what Gangrel will do with her? No doubt he'll provoke the Ylisseans all the more by holding her up like a juicy steak, just drawing in more conflict. This is exactly what we wanted to avoid!" Aventine shouts._

 _Mustafa is comparatively calm. "There is nothing we can do for now, Aventine."_

 _The door to the right bursts open, and a young boy of about nine or ten rushes in, lightly slapping Mustafa's knee as he runs past. "Tag, Daddy! You're it!"_

 _Mustafa sighs. "I thought I told you, Mikkel… Could you come get him, Henry?" he calls in the direction of the open door._

" _Hee hee! Sorry General!" the young Dark Mage calls back, stepping into the doorway. "Come on, Mikkel! We can't play here right now. Your daddy's busy." He gestures with a hand for the boy to follow him._

 _Mikkel pouts, but follows Henry's command, trudging out of the room and shutting the door behind him._

 _Aventine clears his throat. "Now then, what on earth are we going to do now?"_

 _Mustafa closes his eyes for a moment. "Aventine. The way things are going now, it's very possible I won't be able to avoid fighting the Ylisseans myself. If it comes to that, you have to be ready to take this operation over. Please, follow me. There are some things I must show you."_

* * *

 **A/N: So, how'd I do? First time taking a stab at an entire chapter from another character's perspective. I hope I managed to stay convincingly in character for Chrom. I think the game kind of glosses over his more angry and temperamental nature sometimes, but I think it's super interesting, and it merited further exploration. So I hope you liked it!**

 **As you all know, I love reading your feedback, even and especially those that bring up concerns you guys have about my style. In particular, I got a great one from Some Guy in an Ambulance, and I'd like to address it a little. I agree that Randall acts kind of childish sometimes and isn't frequently punished for it, but I do hope you decide to stay and see where this gravy train is rolling! Suffice it to say, he doesn't get to get away with it forever. As I hope this chapter demonstrated, a lot of characters have some lessons to learn, not least of which is my boi. As for why Robin wanted to see if he could use Thunder magic, I guess you could say I'm kinda playing fast and loose with character classes a little. After all, healers can eventually become Sages, which can use anima magic, so it stands to reason that one could conceivably have the aptitude for it even early on. Of course, Randall doesn't, but that was Robin's logic. I think the class system works well for gameplay, but not so much for storytelling. A priest could totally pick up a sword if it was a real emergency, even if he would suck with it. Is light magic a thing in Awakening's world, by the way? I'm not inherently opposed to just making something up, but I'm wondering if there's a precedent for it.**

 **To Mark the Mark: I had a ton of fun watching your reviews coming in, updating me on where you were. It put a big grin on my face to see your thoughts as you went along.**

 **Speaking of frequent reviewers, I totally missed giving my man Scorin a shoutout for your frequent feedback as well last time! I really appreciate it buddy :)**

 **There were also a lot of reviews speculating on the meaning behind that fun little number with Maribelle last time, and that of course made me happy as a lark. It was really fun to see people's thoughts on where I'm going with that. I'll go so far as to say that at least one of you guys came very close to the mark :P**

 **Once more, of course, Syntaxis deserves major props for helping me work out some major kinks with this chapter. Thanks again for your help!**

 **As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**


	20. Ch 20: The Dishes Don't Do Themselves

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 20: The Dishes Don't Do Themselves**

"Chrom, you've gotta be kidding me!" Lissa shouts. "This is not necessary!"

Chrom stands firm, arms crossed. "Yes, it is. Apparently being a member of the Exalted family guarded by the elite pegasus knight brigade wasn't enough to keep Emm safe, so as far as I'm concerned, having just one bodyguard is, if anything, not enough."

She turns to Lon'qu. "And you don't have any issue with this?"

He very pointedly doesn't make eye contact with her. "I have my orders. That's all that matters."

Lissa looks again at Chrom. "And why Lon'qu anyway? He can't stand me. He can't stand women in general!"

Chrom points at her. "Exactly. He's the most diligent of all the Shepherds outside of Frederick, and he's apparently the only man around that's completely immune to your charms, so I doubt you'll be able to slip him as easily as one of these other goons." I could swear I see a shadow of a smirk on his face. Man's gotta get his kicks from somewhere, I guess.

I don't doubt he's driving himself insane just waiting to go. While he was initially ready to fly out the door, Robin had to borderline-shout him down and make him agree to wait a day so that she could draw up some preliminary plans for the march down to Plegia. We've now been in Ný Von for two days longer than Chrom wanted to be. I feel for him.

That said, I'm not going to miss my chance to explore the city while there's time. I had to miss our last trip here, after all. First stop? Why, in the arena, of course!

"To survive you must defeat the beast, but only if you can defeat the beast within," I mumble to myself as I amble down the cobblestone path from the palace to the Arena Ferox. Sometimes it's the little things, like dumb little YouTube cartoons, that I miss most.

The arena is massive, ornate, and surprisingly open. The game gives the impression that the arena is a really important building to the Feroxi culture, so I figured there might be some security of some sort, or at least a door, but in fact the whole structure is open to the public. When I enter through one of the gargantuan stone arches, I see that the entire arena floor is covered with merchant stands and carts. Seems that when there isn't an official tournament or something going on, this place doubles as an open-air marketplace.

I remember something I've been meaning to buy when I pass by a small weapons stand. I browse through his selection, eventually finding what I was looking for: a small, easily concealed knife. Much too small to use in combat, of course, but with a blade of just a few inches, I should be able to keep it on my person at all times. I need something like this, just in case I ever need to make a… quick exit stage left. Satisfied with my purchase, I look around some more, seeing what else people are selling.

Up ahead, a teal head of hair stands out among the mostly blonde and brown. Looks like Virion is here with… actually, I have no idea who that is. As I approach, Virion makes a sort of sending-off gesture, and the other guy leaves, making haste for one of the arena's arches to leave.

I raise a hand in greeting. "Yo, Virion!"

He turns, smiling like a movie star. "Ah, Randall. I wondered if any of the other Shepherds would make an attempt to come visit the arena when it's not tournament season. The meat provided by these northern butchers alone makes it worth the trip, as far as I am concerned."

I nod in the direction of the arch that guy left out of. "Who was your friend there?"

His face falls. "I was hoping to keep that little interaction a secret."

"How come?"

He gestures for me to follow, so I allow him to lead me to a more secluded area near the edge of the arena. Once we're there, he leans in conspiratorially.

"The truth is, there is more to my story than you know," he says quietly.

"Like what?" I ask. Is this the part where I find out who that contact he had in Ylisse was? Maybe get some explanation for that whole attempted-assassination debacle?

He sighs. "The truth is, I am not from this continent. I was, ahem, _am_ , the rightful ruler of the small nation of Roseanne. Perhaps you're familiar with it?"

Wait. Is that the whole secret? I already knew that! How lame. I guess I should still act surprised. The rest of the Shepherds aren't supposed to know that for another couple years, now that I think about it.

"Yeah, I'm familiar with it. You're the duke of Roseanne?" I ask, attempting to sound like I'm covering shock in my reaction.

He nods gravely. "Of course, I don't need to tell you why I'm not there now, do I?"

That's right; I'm supposed to be Valmese too. I wonder how best to express my understanding. Eventually I settle for: "... Walhart?"

Seems like that was the right answer. He nods again. "Unfortunately, there is little I can do for my people when the Conqueror has the momentum that he's gained. One by one, the tiny nations of Valm are falling. So, I'm here to gain allies from across the sea. I didn't expect to get pulled into another war here, so my timetable has been regrettably moved back."

"So I take it that guy was one of your informants or something?" I ask.

"More of a courier. I try to keep in touch with my faithful servant, currently watching over my people in my place. He's sending a message on my status to her."

"Gotcha." Something's still bugging me, though. I decide I will ask about it. "So why tell me this? I only asked a little question about that guy. You could've probably just lied and said he was a street peddler or something, right?"

He looks at me seriously. "You've already been exposed to some of my dealings that I've kept out of the public eye. And I see in your expression, you are a shrewd one yourself. I have already determined that you can keep a secret, as our little escapade outside Ylisstol remains unknown to our Shepherd compatriots, so I thought it better to simply let you know than have the risk of you telling someone who might not take to it so kindly if I didn't simply answer honestly."

I shrug. "Makes sense to me." I spot a distinctly blue glint of light out of the corner of my eye. "Speaking of, act natural. Frederick is coming this way."

Virion's face very briefly pales, but he regains composure quickly. I suppose even someone as sharp as the duke has to admit Frederick is pretty scary.

I decide it's better to preempt the knight's approach, though. While he's still maybe twenty feet away, I wave him over. "Hey Frederick! What's up?" I say, mustering all the cheer I can manage.

"What are the pair of you doing here?" he asks, his suspicion very poorly masked.

"Hello to you as well. I agree, it is a very nice day," I say a little crossly. I know he's not our biggest fan, but could he at least fake it for once? "We were talking about the last time the Shepherds were here. It's hard to picture this arena totally emptied out for a big fight, let alone picturing you guys fighting for an audience here."

Frederick hesitates for a moment. Is it possible he might be buying it?

It hits me just how often I've been having to lie to the Shepherds just to stay afloat. It's a little scary how good I'm getting at lying off the cuff.

As if to prove my point, Frederick gives a small 'hmph' and starts to walk away. However, after a moment he stops, looking back over his shoulder at us. "If the pair of you are idling, I could certainly use some assistance with buying and loading the supplies we are going to need for the long march south. Come with me."

And that's how Virion and I get roped into spending the rest of our day carrying heavy sacks and crates of supplies from the arena to the palace, where our carts and wagons still wait. Because we are going to be marching through the vast Plegian desert (which I could not be more excited about, by the way), we are especially stocking up on water, which is a massive drag to carry all the way from the arena. I try to move the wagon from the palace to the arena to make the trip much easier, but as it turns out, I have no idea how to work a horse, so getting the wagon hitched and the horse in motion is out of the question too.

In other words, by the end of the day, Virion and I are pretty well pooped. Why do I feel like we were being punished for something? I'm going to have to do something to win Frederick over soon, or things could get out of hand. What can I actually do, though?

I guess his opinion of Robin in particular might be softening a bit, as he didn't protest to her planning the rescue operation for Emmeryn. Maybe in her case, her usefulness overshadows her suspiciousness. Which would suggest that Virion and I are being regarded as comparatively useless. Fun.

At this particular moment, though, that's no lie: we're so worn out that we are essentially useless. That's why when Lissa finds us, we are both slumped helplessly against the wagon we just got done overstuffing with drinking water barrels.

"What are you guys doing?" she asks.

I throw an arm in the air in an attempt to make some sort of gesture. "Weeargh," I say thoughtfully. Beside me, Virion groans in agreement.

"Are you okay?" she asks, but she can't hide the smile forming behind the question.

"I am… dead," I say with finality. Beside me, Virion groans in agreement.

She turns to Virion. "And I take it you're dead as well?"

He musters a grim look. "As dead as I've ever been, milady." Beside him, I groan in agreement.

"Alrighty then. Frederick suggested you guys might want some of this after the day you've had," she replies, tossing a small vial of vulnerary to me. I fumble with it for a moment before finally securing my hold on it. Without hesitation, I open the vial and take a swallow.

Drinking vulnerary is kind of weird. It has the consistency of watered-down raw egg whites, but it tastes more like if there was a drink flavored after rosemary. You feel the solution tingle all the way down your throat as the body hungrily absorbs the healing remedy and, I assume, takes it straight to the bloodstream so it can be distributed to the entire body. As a result, the whole body very quickly feels warm and prickly, like when a hand or foot falls asleep and has to wake up as it regains circulation. When the prickling feeling is gone, though, you're left feeling refreshed and revitalized. While it's not good for healing serious wounds all at once, like a healing staff can, it's certainly more than enough to take care of the muscular fatigue we feel.

After a couple minutes, we feel like ourselves again. We both stand up, stretching our arms and legs to try and ease some of the lingering soreness.

"Surprisingly nice of Frederick," I say.

Lissa laughs. "I'd agree. I suppose I didn't give you the whole story. It's more like, once I heard what he had you and Virion doing all day, and he suggested you guys were probably good and miserable by now, I maaay have convinced him to give you two something for your trouble."

Virion and I share a look. He speaks up. "In that case, you have our thanks as well, Your Highness. It is certainly an appreciated gesture after the, ahem, trying day we've had."

She giggles. "You're welcome, then."

Behind Lissa, I hear a slight cough. I peek over her shoulder and see, about fifteen feet away, Lon'qu standing there, arms crossed, looking pretty sullen. I look at Lissa again. "So, how's the new arrangement? You like having a bodyguard?" I ask.

The smile melts from her face. "I didn't realize when Chrom said he'd be with me at all waking hours, he meant literally _all_ hours! I'm not even allowed to go to the latrine without him standing guard outside! Now, all of this might not be so bad if," she turns around to deliver this next part to Lon'qu, "he ever actually _said_ anything."

Lon'qu says levelly, "My duty is to guard, not to make conversation."

I raise a brow at Lissa. "He's got a point, you know."

She groans. "Anyway, you guys loaded up all the extra supplies for the trip south, right?"

I nod. "We might have been reduced to overcooked pasta by the end, but we got the job done."

"Looks like we're ready to go at first light tomorrow, then," she says.

"You ready for this? It could get intense out there," I say, clapping a hand on her shoulder. I see Lon'qu twitch for a moment, but he decides against making a move on me. I'm thankful for it. Looks like he's taking this job seriously after all.

Lissa's face darkens a little. "Do you think it'll be okay? Trying to rescue Emm, I mean. Can we do it?"

I'm torn on what I think the actual truth is, but I know what Lissa needs to hear for now. "I trust Robin to lead us to success. We can save her."

She does her best to smile. "Right. She hasn't let us down once yet. We can count on her," she says, seemingly more to herself than to me.

Virion speaks beside me. "Well Randall, I am unsure about you, but as for me, I am truly famished. Shall we see what the Feroxi royal kitchen has cooked up tonight?"

My stomach growls its response. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea."

Lissa holds up a hand. "Actually Virion, I just remembered something else. Can you give us a minute? We won't be long."

Virion bows graciously. "Of course. I will go ahead, then," he says, turning to walk inside the palace.

Lissa glances behind her. "I don't suppose you're willing to give us some space?" she asks Lon'qu.

He frowns. "I follow orders. If necessary, you can order my silence from me as well."

She waves a hand. "Whatever. As if anyone needs to order you to keep quiet." She turns back to me. "Okay, I just wanted to make sure you're doing okay."

I cock my head to the side. "Whatcha mean? I'm fine."

"I mean you and Maribelle. I know you haven't been on the best terms since your date went a little awry back in Darros Town." She's not lying. Things with Maribelle have been, I guess I'll say tense. Ever since the date went to hell the other night, we have spoken as little as possible, which most days amounts to no speaking at all. "To be honest, I'm a little worried about her."

"Because of that?" I ask. "We're just giving the fight some distance and some air before we come back together." That's what I've been telling myself, anyway.

"I mean, there's that, but lately it seems like she doesn't want to talk to me about much either. I would understand if she doesn't want to talk about you or the fight or whatever, but it seems like she's been more distant in general lately, and that's a little worrying to me. I was hoping you might, I dunno, check in with her, see if there's something she'll tell you that she's keeping from everyone else."

I nod. "I understand. I think she and I are probably due for a talk anyway."

Lissa smiles that easygoing smile of hers, seemingly relieved by my promise. "Thanks, Randy."

* * *

I've been trying to figure out exactly what the problem is, but it's a little tough as it feels like this whole fight just came out of nowhere. I get that she feels like I don't trust her, but by now it should be pretty evident that I would literally trust her with my life. If anything, I feel like she's the one who didn't trust me enough to tell me there was a problem in the first place. If she had an issue with my talk with Robin, which she shouldn't have been listening in on anyway, by the way, then she should have said something directly to me instead of just letting it stew all day and then blowing up at dinner. In both versions of that day that I lived through, she never just told me what she was upset about during the whole day's hike, until of course it all boiled over on our date.

I take a breath. Try to see things from her perspective. Of course she'd be upset if I tell her nothing's wrong, but then go off to another woman and spill my guts about what's been bothering me for a while now. She doesn't see that as me trying to spare her from further worry; she obviously feels like instead it's me shutting her out. She might be a chronic over-worrier, but that's just her way of feeling in control of her life.

The question is whether I think I can deal with that. I don't have a satisfactory answer to that one yet.

Regardless, I'm standing outside her door, trying to find the guts to knock. Despite what I told Lissa about giving this some space, I'm starting to think it's a little less like giving a wound time to heal and a little more like leaving the dishes in the sink for another day. The dishes don't do themselves, and things start to go bad in the meantime. As a result, I'm a little apprehensive about just diving in.

No time like the present, I guess. These dishes aren't going to do themselves. I can't believe that's the metaphor I'm going with. I knock anyway. I hear movement behind the door, but after a minute or so I determine she isn't coming.

"Hey, Maribelle? It's me. Can we talk about some stuff?" I ask.

…

Nothing.

Welp, I guess it can't be helped. I'm not about to go barging into her room. I turn around and start heading back to my own room.

Before I get too far, though, I hear the door open behind me.

"Randy?" a shaky voice calls into the hallway. That's her, alright. I turn around.

I'll try to be gentle about this. She looks like a mess. Her hair, uncurling at the ends, lies at untidy angles, and her pajamas are all twisted on her body as if she's been rolling around in them. Her eyes are tired and red.

"Hey," I say, stepping back toward her. She slips inside the door, gesturing with a hand for me to follow. As I enter, she shuts the door behind me.

Now that I'm standing closer to her, it's obvious that she's been crying. "Are you okay, Maribelle?" I ask.

"Oh, now you want me to share my worries?" she asks, but it's more of a jab than a question.

I sigh. "Please, let's not do this. We need to work some stuff out."

"Shouldn't we be focusing on the march to Plegia? Things are going to be very busy from tomorrow on," she says sullenly, sitting on her bed. She doesn't protest when I sit beside her.

"I agree, it's going to get busy. That's why we need to talk about this stuff now, when there's a little time left to us."

She sniffs. "Fine. Then how would you like to begin this conversation?"

"I should probably open with an apology. It wasn't cool of me to tell you nothing was wrong when I've had such serious stuff on my mind. Not when you trusted me to come to you. I know I've been shutting you out with that stuff, and I'm sorry," I say, looking at my knees.

"...I should apologize as well. Not only for eavesdropping, but also for my behavior at Maria's. It was unbecoming, and I ought to have known better," she says.

"There. Now we've gotten off on the right foot. So let's air out some of these worries, eh?"

"How do you mean?"

"I guess we can start with why it matters to you so much that I tell you everything I worry about."

"Because I care about you. And we're a couple. Isn't that what couples do?" she asks.

I shrug. "Not really, no. People need space, Mari. Sometimes people have to deal with issues in their own way, and that might involve not talking about them with others, or even specific people. Couples that get too into each other's business end up burning out, in my experience."

She takes this in. "I see. Was I wrong to worry, then?"

"No, that's not it. Worrying is natural, and you can't really help that much. But how you deal with worry and how others do might be different, and that's important."

"I… will try, then," she replies. "Now, my turn. Why Robin? Why was she the person you felt you could open up to?"

I shift uneasily. I figured this would come up. "I wish I knew. She just has this air about her. Or maybe it was that we were alone on the night watch, and I was tired and worn out. In any case, I just had this feeling that she would get it. That if anyone would understand what I was going through with how killing feels, it would be her."

Her voice is a little louder now. "And why don't you think that about me?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"How could you think I wouldn't understand you? We spent so much time together, in Themis. We worked together almost every day. We…" she falters. "We saw such terrible things together."

 _Would you be sad if we died?_

I think I'm beginning to understand what this might really be about.

"We really did see some awful shit, huh?" I say, scooting closer and draping an arm around her shoulder. Something in the gesture seems to break down her composure, and a sob busts through. Followed by another, and then the tears and snot start flowing freely as she bawls into my shoulder. I turn slightly and pull her in for a proper hug.

I remember back in Ylisstol, when Gaius told me she had called me to her room. When I got there, she acted like nothing was wrong, but I could tell she had been crying. How long has this been going on?

"I still see it, Randy," she sobs. "Almost every night, every time I close my eyes. I see Melinda's head being thrown as if it were a rotten pumpkin in front of us. I see Isadora heaving Jackson's axe. I hear her screams. Calling out for her baby. I see Aversa, grinning as she cuts her down. I can't stop seeing it."

I don't think I can keep this to myself anymore. "I… see them too, Maribelle. I dream of them all the time. I do my best not to think about them, but I can't not think about them at night."

She snorts and wipes her eyes with her nightgown's sleeves, pulling back enough to look at my face. "You see them too?"

I'm narrowly managing not to cry myself. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. I haven't been sleeping so well lately."

Neither of us say anything for a very long moment. Finally she speaks up. "I'm… I won't say I'm glad that you're haunted by this as well, but… I'm glad I'm not doing this alone."

I squeeze her hands. "You don't have to do any of this alone. Whatever happens, I'm here."

Tears continue to pool in her eyes. "Thank you, Randy."

I try my best to smile. "Of course."

She looks down and off to the side for a moment. Then, looking back in my eyes, she says, "And then, even once we were freed from that Plegian dungeon, it seems you cannot stop narrowly brushing with death. From mages attacking you, to getting hit with axes, to falling off cliffs, to getting stabbed in the back, it seems that death is pursuing you more fervently than anyone. It… it feels as if the world won't be satisfied until it takes even that last piece of my home at Themis away from me. I won't let it. I won't let you… No. I will always protect you, no matter what. I won't let you be taken from me too."

I briefly consider telling her about my power. That no matter what, I won't be able to actually die on her. But somehow, that not only seems like it wouldn't fly, but it also feels like it would be just putting a Band-Aid on a much bigger wound.

A thought comes to me. I don't like it, but I think it, and as the seconds tick by, I think it more and more. I'm terrified of what she might say if I ask this. I don't want to believe that what I'm thinking is true. I really don't want to. But I have to know. "Maribelle, I need you to be honest with me."

She nods. "Of course."

"Do you… actually love me? I mean, as a person, not just someone you feel like you have to protect?"

She looks like I just stabbed her. "What do you mean? Of course I do!"

Why am I doing this? I'm the one who fell for her in the first place. "If you weren't so paranoid about me dying. If you weren't haunted by this tragedy we witnessed together. If we hadn't gotten together riding on the high of yet another close call with death. If you weren't so… fine, I'll say it, kind of obsessed with keeping me safe. Would you have fallen for me? Have you just mistaken fear of losing me for love?"

She looks like I just twisted the knife. "I… I don't…"

This is killing me. But I have to do this. I can't just drop this now.

"Is the reason that we seem to fight so much when we aren't in combat because you really care about me most when you think I'm in danger? Is the reason you always want to know about my worries because you feel like you have to constantly check on my safety?" I ask.

Her grip on my hands tightens. "This…"

I decide to press this. Even if it's tearing my fucking heart out to do it. Now that I can see the truth peeking from behind her expression, I can't unsee it. "This isn't healthy, Maribelle. _We_ aren't healthy, together like this. Are we?"

She's quiet for a long time. Her hands are wrapped so tightly around mine that I can feel her pulse with my fingertips.

"...No. We aren't. We probably never have been. Not since Themis was attacked. We tried to move on from that too quickly, and as a result I ended up running myself into the ground. I wanted so badly for you to admit that their deaths still stay with you, to prove to myself that it wasn't just me. To justify my grief."

"Of course they stayed with me. No matter how much I try to leave it behind. And you don't need me to justify anything. They were like family– no, they _were_ family to you. Anyone would have to grieve after something like that. I'm sorry if you felt like I was being flippant or dismissive about it. I'm pretty… I guess private about that sort of thing."

"Well, I can see that now," she says, a sad smile forming on her face. "It means a lot to me that you would talk about it with me anyway."

"I wish it weren't like this," I say, unable to meet her eye. "I wish we could have saved them. We could have grown closer, not through tragedy, but through working together. Spending happy days learning from each other."

"We still can!" she says, sounding almost desperate. "I can tell what you're thinking, but does it have to be like this? Couldn't we start over?"

I give a small, bitter laugh. "After everything we've said. Everything we've done. The things that still linger with us. There's definitely no starting over. Maribelle, you don't even love me. You had yourself convinced you love me because it's the way you made sense of wanting to look after me so much."

"I can learn to love you! I can learn not to worry, not to cling to you so tightly. We're not healthy now, but we can heal!" She's crying again.

I don't know. I hate this. I do love her. I'm sure of that. And I can tell she's not lying. She does want to love me.

But she doesn't. She's basically asking my permission to let her fake it until she means it. To lie to herself, and really to me too, until she believes it.

"Maribelle… I can't ask you to do that," I say finally.

"You don't have to ask. I'm offering," she counters.

"Let me rephrase, then. I can't _let_ you do that," I say, more firmly.

"Randy, you're making me break your heart! And that's breaking mine! We can try again!" she bawls.

This sucks. This really sucks. I sigh. "Look. Maybe, in the future, when this war is over. When we can finally take a real breath. When we have time to actually move past this. That might be a time we could revisit… us. But if you asked me to take part in a relationship that starts with insincere feelings… I just can't be part of that. I know that you do care about me. I won't try to deny that. But if you don't actually love me outside of your fear that I'm going to die too, then that's it."

"But I do love the things we've done together. The singing, the dancing, the laughter. I've loved the time we spent together. Isn't that enough?" she asks.

"I don't want to discount those memories. They'll always be precious to me," I say, wiping some tears from her face. "And we don't have to leave that behind. But if you think we can do it, I'd like to make more memories. As friends, as allies, and as healers. It's not just our job to stitch people back together. We have to help each other heal too. And sometimes healing means opening up an old wound and clearing out the bad shit underneath. But we have to do this right. Can we do that?"

"But Randy… You do love me. You're giving up on this, even though you don't have to," she says quietly.

I give a small shrug. "Wouldn't be the first time. And you're wrong, Maribelle. I'm not giving up on anything. If I let this relationship continue on a foundation that isn't true, that would be giving up. On my convictions. On what I know is right. And like I said, maybe this doesn't have to be forever."

"Just… promise me you'll be okay," she says. "You already know that's what I care about."

I smile as best I can, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Of course I'll be okay. I'm me, right?"

She laughs. "I suppose so." She looks me in the eyes. "Will you… stay with me until I fall asleep?"

I nod. "Of course."

She lies down, pulling the blankets up over herself and dousing her lamp. I remain seated on the side of her bed. We remain silent. After a couple minutes, her hand absently searches around for mine, eventually finding it. I allow her to hold my hand until her breathing becomes deep and even. I stay for maybe five more minutes. When I stand up and slowly, gently pull my hand from her grip, her fingers grasp at the blanket, pulling it into a tight bunch at her side. I slip outside her door as quietly as I can.

I walk down to the opposite end of the hall, where the room I've been sleeping in is. I picked this room to give myself some distance from Maribelle when we were still on poor speaking terms.

That was not how I thought that conversation was going to go when I walked in.

I did the right thing, didn't I?

I remember the small knife I bought earlier today. It's not too late to undo this.

I slide the little blade out of its sheath. Standing in front of the mirror, I hold it up to my throat. I press the point against the skin, stretching it but not yet puncturing.

"You're such a fucking idiot," I growl at my reflection. He grimaces back. "Look what you've done."

It would be so easy to go back. I can fix this. I can undo everything.

A bead of blood pokes out of the skin.

No, I can't. I can't undo everything. I could, at most, undo today. The problems that are there would still be there. I'd be throwing the skin back over the wound without clearing out the infection. Just leaving it to fester. It really is better like this. At least for now.

I throw the knife aside.

I hope it's better like this, anyway.

* * *

Several days of snow. Very little interesting stuff happens during this time, as every day goes a little something like this:

First: Wake up. Pack everything up, making a nominal effort to keep the snow out of my pack. It doesn't help. Eat whatever breakfast someone has cooked up. The first two bites are hot. The next two are warm. The rest is cold. Help pack up the rest of the caravan. Get on the road.

Then: Walk. Walk some more. When that's done, walk. Stop for food at some point. Walk again. I can't get into the medical supply wagon as often anymore, as the added weight would make the cart wear the horses out in snow this deep.

Next: Stop to set up camp, making a nominal effort to keep the snow off of my sleeping mat. It doesn't help. Eat whatever dinner someone has cooked up. The first two bites are hot. The next two are warm. The rest is cold.

Finally: Go to bed.

Bonus: If it's my night, go to watch. Make small talk about how cold it is with the other watchmates.

Everyone's so hell-bent on staying warm and getting this trip over with that no real conversation happens. On the plus side, it's kept rumors about me and Maribelle to a minimum. On the other hand, it also means every day is oppressively boring.

The first day that breaks up the monotony is the day we get to the Longfort. I had forgotten that the Longfort literally stretches clean across the southern border, so I was initially surprised when we saw it this far to the west. We are allowed to pass through without incident, I assume because we have a couple khans with us. That's pretty nice.

Not that the weather is any gentler on the Plegian side. Several more days of snow, except we now adopt these new steps:

First: Be on constant lookout not only for Risen, but also for Plegian soldiers, Plegian civilians, or basically anything. No telling who might be hostile.

Next: The bonus step is no longer bonus. The size of the watch is doubled, which means we all have a shift of watch every night.

Still, there is one nice thing about coming to Plegia: pretty soon after we cross the border, the snow and wind start to lighten up considerably. Within a couple days, I would go so far as to say it's downright temperate again.

Maribelle and I do talk occasionally, but it's undeniably stunted. Uncomfortable. I'm not really surprised. This is definitely going to take some getting used to. Of course, the rumor that we've formally split has spread by now, so it's a lot harder to talk to her when we feel so many eyes on us. I assume it's the sort of problem that gets better with time.

One day we come to the top of a particularly tall hill, and on the other side I can only see water stretching out south, east, and west as far as I can see from here. Well, with the exception of a massive stone bridge that stretches to the horizon.

Huh. That's weird. I don't remember the Shepherds crossing an ocean at this point in the game. I also wonder how long a bridge would have to be to span the ocean. I try to remember what the world map looked like. Giving up, I ask the person nearest to me what we're looking at.

Stahl tells me it's the narrowest part of Lake Medeus. I tell him that's a really weird name for a lake. He tells me the Plegians have a weird sense of humor. Since the lake is pretty much entirely in Plegia's land holdings, though, no one is allowed to have a say in what it's called except them.

So yeah. They named the lake after the ancient evil Earth Dragon. Apparently most Ylisseans just call it "The Western Lake."

I'm surprised when Robin tells us all to disarm and stow the weapons in the carts, as well as having all our armored units remove their armor. It seems our plan is to try to pass as a merchant caravan just crossing the lake peacefully, so as to get one of the bridge guards to allow us to use the bridge to get across. As for what _the entirety of the Feroxi military_ is meant to do to get past this lake, that's apparently not for me to know.

I would learn much later that they just went far, far around. They marched east around the lake through Ylisse and entered Plegia through their eastern border, which explains why they were precisely no help in Chapter 8 in the game. I guess their plan is to ambush the Plegians from two fronts when we get to the capital. As for why we all didn't just go that way, Robin wanted to be sure that we were absolutely going to make it in time, so we took the most direct path.

Which includes getting access to this bridge.

When we get to the guardhouse, a guy with a spear and a pretty ridiculous helmet stops us.

"Hold there. State your identities and your business," he says in a firm, gravelly voice.

Chrom and Robin step forward. At least Chrom had the good sense to cover his Brand with a brown cloak. Robin speaks up. "We are simply travelers making our way south. After stocking up on supplies from near the Feroxi border, we are looking to make some trades in the south."

The guard raises a brow. "And what are you selling?"

"Metalworks. Nails, tools, that sort of thing," Robin replies levelly.

"And you said you're Plegian?" he asks.

Chrom jumps in. "Y-yes! Plegian as the day I was born."

The guard's eyes narrow. "Neither of you sound very Plegian. Can I see your merchant's license? You'd definitely have to have one for a caravan this large."

Even from behind, I notice Chrom conspicuously stiffen. However, Robin nods. "Of course. Let me show you."

She walks up to the guard and reaches into her sleeve, pulling something only part of the way out. Just as I'm starting to wonder when the hell someone made time to falsify a license, I notice the yellow color of the thing she slipped out of her massive coat's sleeve. Looks like our resident Thunder mage is going for a less diplomatic approach after all. I hope the two archers up in their short towers flanking the entrance to the bridge don't notice anything.

I can't make out what she says to him, and I can't make out her expression from this angle, but after about ten seconds he says, too loudly and too robotically, "Ah yes, these appear to be in order. You may proceed, miss!"

She steps back, beaming. "Thank you, sir! Everyone, let's make haste!" she calls, and we all get moving onto the bridge.

Damn Robin, you scary.

The moment we get out of earshot of the guards, Robin commands us, "Get your weapons back out and ready to go, right now. I don't want to be caught by surprise if our friends at the entrance change their minds." Immediately we all re-equip our weapons, keeping them at the ready for an attack from behind.

However, we don't get any visit from the guards.

"Jeez, Robin, I know you threatened him with the tome or whatever, but what did you say to him?" I ask as everyone starts to lower their guard.

She winks. "It's a little secret, between me and that guard back there."

"Uh huh. Remind me never to get on your bad side, okay?" I say, taking a big step away from her.

The rest of the crossing is uneventful. Fortunately, once we cross through the guard checkpoint on the other side, they're much more willing to believe Robin's lie. Or hell, maybe she sent them telepathic death threats or something. In any case, we manage to officially cross Lake Medeus without a major incident. Merry early Christmas, I guess.

Within half a day of crossing the bridge, the terrain becomes noticeably less green over time. Soon, lush grasses and plains give way to spiky shrubs, which in turn give way to sand. Looks like we made it to the Border Sands at last.

Before we enter into the desert proper, Miriel has us all don flowing, loose robes and hoods. According to her research, that's the best way to keep cool and insulated without getting burned in the desert. Makes sense to me. For my part, the robes I already wear are pretty well fit for the job, so I just have to don a dark hood to keep my head and neck safe from the sun.

The rest of the Shepherds look varying degrees of different, though. For the cavaliers, fliers, and knights, it's odd to see them without their armor, especially Frederick. It turns out he wears a full butler-esque suit underneath his armor at all times. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Virion looks grumpy to be wearing such a drab brown cloak over his usual dapper outfit. For the rest of the melee attackers, I suppose it doesn't look too odd; they just sort of look like a band of desert bandits as opposed to proud Shepherd warriors. Same goes for the healers that aren't me. Lissa in particular looks so different without her trademark wild twintails that she looks almost funny to me. The mages don't really have to change at all. Go figure.

And so begins our foray into the desert. I'm sure nothing will go wrong.

* * *

 **A/N: *Braces to maybe get crucified* Alright, I suppose I should try and preempt some of the no-doubt irritated responses I'll get to this one. First, I'd like to confirm this was always the plan, right from the beginning. It's aaaaall part of the plan~**

 **Second, I promise there's better things for each of them in their respective futures. Probably. It's also possible they'll both be miserable for all time. Guess you'll just have to see!**

 **Quick shout-out to Mixed Valence: thanks for the review! I've been enjoying keeping up with your SI as well, though I think I've yet to leave a proper review. Mayhaps I should fix that.**

 **Oh, and PS: If you have beef with this chapter, you can take it up with Syntaxis, who greenlit this idea and did NOTHING to stop me. (But really, thanks as always for the help) Here is your Syntaxis out-of-context quote of the week:** **"Yucky sibling romance. Half my time spent playing Fates was just asking "Why?" over and over."**

 **As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**


	21. Ch 21: The World's Longest Day

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 21: The World's Longest Day**

"Oh yeah, I meant to do this a few days ago actually."

 _Thwack!_

"Ow! Jesus, Lissa, what was that for?" I ask, rubbing my no doubt already bruising shoulder. The thick layers of robe did little to protect me. Little shit punches like a piston.

She gets in my face. "Considering the skinning I promised you, I'd say you're getting off easy!"

Ah. Now I remember that conversation. "Look, Lissa, I know how it mi–"

She silences me with a finger on my lips. "Relax. I'm half kidding. She explained your reasoning to me as best she could, and while I don't need all the details, just know that I actually think you did the best thing you could. It sucks that it ended up like this, but sometimes that's how the cake crumbles." She backs up a step from me, and we both keep walking.

Did I mention yet that the desert is god-awful? Normally I'm loathe to admit in public that I liked the prequels, but you have to admit, Anakin was right: sand is the actual worst. I currently have a small dune forming in the bottom of each of my boots, and I don't understand how that's possible. The boots are tall, and laced up. And covered by robes. I don't get it. It's just bad.

Anyway, the reason I bring it up is that it's still more comfortable than thinking about how the breakup went down. It was less than elegant by any stretch of the imagination. So I think it's fair to say I'm just about as far from in the mood to talk about it as I could be.

"Yup," I say curtly.

Fortunately, she's smart enough to take the hint. "A-anyway, I just figured I'd let you know that I don't have any, you know, hard feelings or whatever. I don't think many in the Shepherds do. Even if they were kinda surprised." I don't say anything. "Uhhh… I'm just gonna go. Talk to you later, okay?"

I grunt my appreciation for her dropping it. Behind her, I think I see Lon'qu nod approvingly.

It's a strategy that's worked pretty well so far, actually. I've already had to shut down Gaius, Stahl, and Cordelia with this powerful method. The moment someone brings up Maribelle, just refuse to talk about it until they move on to something else or someone else. That, and walking near the front of the caravan so that there aren't as many people wanting to carry on a conversation with me. It seems like the rumor cup has finally floweth over, and now it seems that's pretty much all anyone wants to talk about today. Well, to me anyway. Damn small armies and their ability to spread a rumor like wildfire. Anything for a distraction from the nerve-wracking quest ahead of us, I suppose. Well, except Chrom and Frederick, who are fortunately much more focused on the mission at hand. I'm taking a page out of their book and trying to keep my mind on that instead, which has meant generally avoiding people.

Doesn't stop the sand from getting goddamn everywhere, though. I feel it in my hair, rubbing against my hood. Driving me nuts. It's getting between my sleeve and my arm. This shouldn't be possible, I think to myself.

It's making me almost wish for the Chapter 8 battle to start already. We've spent one night in the desert so far, but that's one night too many for me already. I just want to get this whole desert saga over with quickly.

You know how some deserts are kinda cool? Like how there will be interesting rock formations, or maybe some unfamiliar plant and animal life, or whatever? So far literally none of that is happening. It's just sand, slightly denser sand on what makes up their idea of 'roads,' and the occasional moderately large rock. As far as I can see from the front of the caravan, which is pretty damn far, I'm not seeing much of anything instead of some shallow dunes a– _ow!_

I wake up on my sleeping mat.

What the fuck was that?

* * *

I have this uneasy feeling in my gut as we get camp packed up. I don't remember anything from the afternoon or evening, and now we're… wherever we are. In the middle of the desert, with no meaningful landmarks to distinguish locations from each other.

Nobody else seems to be acting as if anything's wrong, so maybe it's just me. No one looks at me weirdly or treats me differently as we get the campsite packed up and get back to marching, so I guess I didn't pass out like I first thought.

My first solid clue as to what happened is Gaius coming up behind me and slapping a hand on my shoulder. "So! Now that you've, uh, shed the old ball and chain, any chance you're willing to hit the town with me later on, get our drink on, maybe woo some lasses? I have to admit, I was digging those songs the other night. I know we're in Plegia and all, but a bar is a bar, and I figure these villagers aren't gonna care who we are."

I'm pretty sure Gaius is smart enough not to say literally the exact same thing he said yesterday to try and invite me out when I shut him out so strongly last time.

Which suggests that conversation never happened.

Which suggests that the very brief and confusing moment of pain I endured yesterday was actually a killing blow of some sort, and it wasn't yesterday at all. It's a few hours from now.

I realize Gaius is still walking alongside me, waiting for a response. "Uh, sure," I say just to shake him off, and he retreats with an 'Alright Bear!' and a pumped fist.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to concentrate on what I remember from yesterday. I mean today. Jesus. That's still tough to get used to.

Okay, so I had conversations with Gaius, Stahl, Cordelia, and Lissa, and it wasn't that long after my conversation with Lissa that whatever happened actually happened. I think it was mid-afternoon, based on where I think I remember the sun being in the sky. I don't really remember much else about what happened during the day; it's all sort of blurring together.

Of all the places to have to respawn, did it have to be the most nondescript desert ever?

Some time later, Stahl comes up to me like before. "So, uh, hey Randall."

"Hey," I reply absently, looking around and trying to get a clear look at the horizon through the heat waves distorting the image.

"I just figured I ought to, you know, check in with you. I know it's already been some time since you and Maribelle... and all, but you've seemed uncommonly quiet these past few days, and I just want to make sure you're good," he says. I might have missed it last time, but I can hear the genuine concern in his voice. He really is a good guy.

Maybe I was too short with him before. Not that he would know, I guess. I give him a sidelong look around the edge of my hood. "I appreciate it, but don't worry. I mean, that'll take some time to get past and all, but mostly I've just been in a foul mood on account of our traveling conditions. I miss Ylisse, where the weather and the terrain are just… normal."

He laughs, seemingly relieved at my change in subject. "I know what you mean. Old Fennec here doesn't seem to like the sand much more than she liked the snow," he says, patting his horse on the snout as she snorts in what I like to believe is agreement. "Not that she's not being a real trooper about it, mind you."

I indulge in some light conversation with him for a while. He talks about caring for horses, what his duties taking care of his teacher's horse as a young squire were like, and, perhaps inevitably, about food.

The conversation makes me feel a lot better about the whole 'I've already lived through this day' thing. It's something different, anyway.

Stahl eventually hangs back to get Fennec some water, so I'm on my own for a bit. I spend more time trying to find something, anything I can actually recognize from last time in the landscape.

It's sand. Go figure.

But what the hell actually happened? We can't be near Chapter 8's battleground yet, since there should be some towns and massive boneyards, not to mention I'm pretty sure a small oasis, to mark that location, and I didn't see anything like that in the first run. I just sort of… died. I don't even remember where on my body I was hit, or how. The spike of pain was so massive, and so short-lived, that it felt like I was hurting everywhere and then nowhere. Nothing meaningful to glean from it, except that my assailant must be pretty good. Or perhaps just got off a lucky crit, maybe. It's frustrating how little useful information I got out of it. I decide to think about it later, as doing so now just irritates me.

After some time, as expected, Cordelia touches down from a short recon flight pretty close to me. She hops off Hyperion to give him a break, and walks over to my side. It's a little odd to see her with her hair stowed away. In fact, if it hadn't been for Hyperion nearby, it would've been a little difficult to tell who she is at all thanks to the thin scarf she wears around the lower half of her face under her hood.

"Are you keeping hydrated, Randall?" she asks, holding out a canteen. I hold up the small one strapped to my waist to show that I've got it covered. "Good," she says. "The heat alone is taxing, but coupled with marching all day, everyone needs to keep on top of taking care of their bodies, or else people will put themselves in danger."

"Always on task, eh? Looking after your fellow Shepherds and such. Pretty admirable," I say.

She replies a little bashfully, "Oh, no, it's nothing, really. Just doing what I can."

I know better than to walk down into the modesty 'oh no I'm not that great even though I'm totally best girl' trap. "Anyway, is it any better up there? I would hope at least a little wind could keep you cool," I ask, a little eager to get onto a different subject.

"You would think so, but the air is surprisingly stale even up in the sky. Something about this wasteland just makes it completely unlivable, in my opinion," she replies.

I lower my hood to shake some sand from my hair for a moment. "You've got that right, sister."

She giggles. "I was going to mention, you've got some sand, um, in your beard," she says, pointing to my chin.

I frown. "I've got sand in my everywhere. At this point I've just sort of accepted that it's going to be a thing for a while."

"Have you considered wrapping a scarf of some sort around your face? It may help," she suggests.

"I think I'm getting heat stroke just thinking about it," I reply dryly.

She gives a small 'hmph,' tightening her own scarf around her lower face. Did I sting her a little with that remark? "Anyway, it's just a thought," she says.

Trying to make a comeback, I reassure her, "I mean, I'm not saying it's not a good idea. Just that it might be too much for me at the moment."

It seems to help. "This desert seems to be putting everyone on edge, don't you think?"

I shrug. "Not surprising, I guess. I think everyone just sort of wants to put this place past them."

"I hear you hail from the country of Valm. What's the landscape like there?" she asks.

Oh boy. She didn't ask that one before. I have no idea how to answer that. Which chapters even take place in Valm proper? Is that where Walhart's castle is? I guess that's a safe bet. What do I remember about that map?

"It's more like Ylisse than it is like this place, for sure," I say. "Grassy plains, occasionally dotted by forests. I never really visited the far north of the country, but I imagine it gets pretty cold like Ferox does." I hope that's enough for her, as I don't dare speculate further.

Looks like it was sufficient. "I see. Then this place is just as foreign to you as it is to us, I suppose," she says thoughtfully.

We chat idly about things like that for a while, but soon I decide to bust out the big guns. I'm in the mood to have some fun after having to walk this whole day's worth of desert, after all. "So, the other week, the night we all sang together, I came out late at night and saw you reading something. What was that?"

I can only see her from the top of her nose to her forehead, but even in this state I can tell she's reddening. "Wh-what are you talking about?"

I can't help but grin evilly. "I know I saw you reading something, but I thought it was strange that you'd be reading alone so late at night. I wanted to know what it was. I never got a chance to ask about it before."

She doesn't meet my eye as she stammers, "That was so long ago! I hardly remember it!"

My eyes flash demonically in the desert sun. "Here, let me help. What was the title…? I think it was something like _How to Find Love_ or _How to Get Him to Confess_ or something like that, right?"

She groans in agony. "No, no that's not what it's… I mean no, I'd never read something like that!"

I rub my beard in mock-thought. "There was something about days, too. Like _How to Get Married in Ten Days_ , maybe?"

Her eyes flit over to where Chrom is walking, a few dozen feet ahead of us. "I implore you, stop this," she moans.

I raise my palms, offering a truce. "Fine, fine, but only if you tell me where I can pick up a copy for myself. I've had an eye on the captain for a while, you see."

If she'd been drinking anything, she'd have done a spit-take. "You _what_?"

"I mean, the ladies are nice and all, but have you _seen_ him? You could do laundry on those abs," I say, gesturing to my own abs for emphasis.

She's struck speechless for a moment. "Y-you, you can't be serious! You were _just_ dating someone!"

Oh. That, uh, actually stung a little bit. It must show on my expression, too, because after a second or so she recoils from her own statement. "I, um, I didn't mean to… I apologize," she sputters, making haste to get back on Hyperion and take off before I can say anything to assure her it's no big deal.

Welp, there goes my good mood. Maybe I teased her just a bit too much. I probably deserved that. I resume walking in relative silence for a while.

After a while, I hear from behind, "Hey, Randy!"

I turn my head. Looks like things are proceeding on schedule. There's Lissa, waving cheerfully.

I raise a hand. "Yo, princess. How's it going?" I reply.

She pouts. "Every time you call me 'princess,' I can't help but feel like you mean it to patronize me," she says.

I place a hand on my chest. "Perish the thought, milady. I take your position of authority most seriously."

"Yeah, right," she replies. "Anyway, just keeping an eye on how the healers are doing. If anyone collapses or whatever from heat, it's going to be up to us to bring them back. Which means we have to watch ourselves."

"Right. I'm doing fine, or at least as fine as anyone in this place. No need to worry about me," I say.

"And speaking of our healers, I meant to do this a few days ago, actually."

I really should have made a move to stop her, but I don't act in time.

 _Thwack!_

I grit my teeth, sucking air between them in a hiss. "Why you little–"

A dangerous flash of Lon'qu's eye stops my retaliation in its tracks.

Lissa crosses her arms. "It's not the skinning I promised, but it'll have to do. We have a war to win before we can afford to dismantle one of our few healers," she says smugly.

I sigh. "Fine. You hit harder than I think you think you do, by the way."

The smug intensifies. "Oh no, I'm acutely aware of how hard I can hit."

"Whatever. Anyway, I didn't mean to hurt her. If anything, I was trying to spare her some hurt down the road when this invariably would have come apart in a much uglier way."

Her expression softens. "I know that. And from what she says, I think deep down she understands that too. It's just kinda hard to actually be okay with it right away, you know?"

I nod, remembering the immediate aftermath of that conversation. I notice the knife in my belt as I keep walking. "Trust me, I understand that. Moving on is tough for anyone, right?"

"And that's why I've gotta keep an eye on both of you for a bit, make sure you're both okay," she says, smiling.

"Looks like Maribelle's worrying ways are rubbing off on you," I say with a smirk. "Trust me, I will manage. It's hardly my first breakup, and far from my worst. She's the one that is experiencing this stuff for the first time, so I think it's fine if you focus on her for a while. She needs her bestie, I don't doubt."

"I getcha. Still, if you need anything, don't hesitate to let me know," she says kindly, starting to take her leave.

"Will do. Thanks, Lissa," I say, raising a hand in farewell for now.

* * *

When my conversation with Lissa is finished, I find myself more apprehensive than ever. I don't really recall how long after we finished talking the attack took place, and I never saw the attacker, so it could literally be from anywhere at any time.

Accordingly, I decide to fall back toward the middle of the pack. I have no interest in dying instantly again. Even if it ends up being the case that someone gets killed and I have to go back anyway, I want to at least live for long enough to get an idea of what we're dealing with. So that's why I'm currently walking alongside a very indignant-looking Fleur-de-lis, with her owner sitting astride her looking quite uncomfortable. Well, that makes two of us I guess.

Fortunately, Maribelle seems content not to say anything, leaving me free to do my best to ignore her and focus on the dunes surrounding us. Any minute now, the assailants should spring to action.

...

Any minute now...

If I had a watch, I'd be checking it. Where the hell are they?

Alright you know what? This is bull–

 _Shunck_

The sound of an arrow penetrating a body is audible even from back here. Someone's been hit.

Maribelle looks at me, and I at her. "Trouble," we say together, and both start making our way to the front of the caravan. I go left, and she goes right.

Looks like our unfortunate target was Frederick, who is now groaning in pain from the arrow that managed to find its mark just below the left knee and drive into the joint in the armor plates. Despite that, it looks like he's going to try and ride off anyway to pursue the attacker. That idiot.

"Frederick, get back here!" I call after him. "I have to put your leg back together!"

He looks back at me, eyes ablaze with adrenaline and fury. "I will heal when the enemy is no more!" he declares, and turns back toward the direction of the archer fire. Speaking of which, he takes another arrow hit, but fortunately it makes contact at one of the thickest points of his chest plate, so it pings off harmlessly.

In taking another shot, the archer has revealed himself. I'm not really sure what I expected, but he looks like pretty much everyone else in the desert: heavily clothed and nondescript. The sand is slowing up Frederick's horse immensely, but thanks to the arrow lodged in his leg, he can't afford to dismount either. Despite this, the horse does its best to close the gap between Frederick and his attacker.

Well, one of his attackers, anyway. As we advance forward, it becomes evident that this isn't just one guy. At least a dozen more emerge from behind the dune, brandishing knives, bows, and tomes. Frederick is currently charging into what I would call a death trap.

Fortunately for him, he's not alone. Our quickest fighters, Lon'qu and Gaius, have already sprung into action and are drawing attention from either side, while Miriel and Ricken, relatively unimpeded by the desert sand, are providing covering fire for our melee guys.

On top of this, Cordelia comes swooping down from the sky to engage the enemy too. As a result, this team of what I'm assuming are bandits find themselves pressed on basically all sides.

Unfortunately, they were at least somewhat prepared for such a situation. When they see us approaching, they regroup, placing their mages in the center of the pack while melee attackers take up defensive positions on the group's perimeter. This means that when Lon'qu, Gaius, and Frederick clash with the group, they get held up with the melee guys while the mages are free to take shots.

And take shots they do. Lon'qu takes a shot to the shoulder from a blast of dark magic, and Gaius gets grazed by a blast himself, but then takes an arrow to the collarbone, which looks wildly painful. Frederick is having to favor his right side, keeping his left leg out of further danger and allowing his axe hand to swing down from the right. However, this opens his flank, and he's taking a lot of magical punishment, which Fredericks are not meant to do.

When there are gaps, Miriel and Ricken throw individual enemies off balance, but there isn't a lot they can do with Frederick and his massive horse front and center blocking their path.

Meanwhile, Cordelia is trying to keep the enemy mages' eyes off her allies, but that plan ends up backfiring when instead of mages, she draws archer attention. Lightly armored and basically riding a bird horse, pegasus knights really should just avoid archers whenever possible. That's one thing the games get completely right.

As if to prove my point, Cordelia swoops through, forced to turn her back on the enemy for a moment due to her massive momentum, and a shot from an enemy archer finds its mark, striking her in the back and making her lose her grip on the reins. With the lack of direction, Hyperion becomes an easy target, and another archer takes advantage of this situation by firing a shot into Hyperion's left wing. With no rider commands and now having to fly asymmetrically, it isn't long before the pegasus falls to the ground.

Finally in a position to help without basically signing my life over, I rush to Cordelia's side. Frantically unfastening her stirrups, I pull her off her mount to examine the damage.

Oh balls, that's a bad one. Looks like it hit too low for it to pierce her heart, but I'm sure she's got some organ damage at least. Maybe a punctured lung. When I ask if she's alright, more to see if she can respond than anything since it's obvious she's not alright, she can't manage to choke out words.

I lay her on the sandy ground facedown, preparing to yank the arrow and put her back in order. "I'm sorry for this," I warn before grabbing the arrow shaft as close to her back as possible and pulling it out. That is one cruel arrowhead; along with its penetrating point, there are backward facing barbs that tear her tissue even more as I pull. I feel flesh rending as the arrow finally breaks free from her body. A high-pitched whine of pain escapes her.

I waste no time putting the Mend staff to work. Fortunately, the wound closes and heals just fine. Less fortunately, she loses consciousness in the healing process as I have to put so much tissue back in place. Nearby, Hyperion whinnies in pain. I have no idea if healing staves even work on horses (or pegasi) but I guess I could find out.

Before I can make my way over, though, something hits me from behind. It hurts like a bitch, but I actually don't detect much real damage (something I've been getting better at with each passing death and near-death experience). It's more like the pain you get when you leave your hands in a bucket of ice water for too long, except a few magnitudes worse than that. Still, it subsides, and I feel not great, but acceptable.

It occurs to me that I've been hit with dark magic. So this is what it feels like when it isn't coming from an incredibly OP bitch with an incredibly OP tome. I was always vaguely wondering.

I turn around, and like I expected, a man brandishing a tome is staring me down, wondering when I'll realize I've been injured. When I start taking steps toward him, his eyes widen in surprise, and he starts backtracking toward his allies. Sorry buddy, but you're going to have to do better than that to break me down. Seriously, super resistance is great.

Of course, his friends have metal weapons, and it turns out I'm not too good at surviving blows from those, so when a thief with a dagger steps between me and the mage, I have to get back on guard.

Alright, it's just a thief with a dinky little knife, nothing to– OH FUCK HE'S FAST. Duck, duck! Back up, there we go, swing your staff to keep him at a better distance. That's better, and AH DODGE THAT okay, he lunged forward. Take a stab at his chest with the staff, shit he dodged it. Back up, back up!

I trip over something and fall on my ass, dropping my staff in the process. I realize I just tripped over the unconscious Cordelia lying on the ground, and now the thief is on me.

Hold him back! Keep that knife away from your face. Throw a punch at his face, ooh, he felt that. Get momentum back! You can– Ow.

Oh. He had a second knife. It's in my abdomen now. And now it's out. And now it's in again. I'm not really in a position to stop him, so the stabs keep coming. This is... wildly painful. It reminds me of way back in Southtown, when I just had the living daylights stomped out of me before I was mercifully killed. Looks like it's that kind of run for me.

Wait. I didn't have a knife of my own back then. This isn't over just yet.

My strength is fading fast, but I still manage to creep my hand down to my belt and slide my handy suicide knife out of its sheath. I'm not in any position to go for the throat, but he's too busy putting new holes in me to notice me sliding my own blade into his stomach until it's already lodged there.

Unfortunately, this isn't the fix-all I was hoping it would be. He does falter for a moment, borderline-hissing in pain, but he doesn't lose his leverage over me and, distressingly, seems only more motivated to keep stabbing me.

"A man of the cloth, sticking a man in the gut? You Ylisseans are hypocrites, the lot of you," he growls before sitting up and, finally, cutting my throat. My vision was already getting dim at best, but now he's just a vaguely colored blob as my brain dedicates its remaining power to other, more vital processes. Soon I can feel those fading too. "Glory to Grima, god of annihilation," is the last thing I hear before it's lights out.

So these guys are the Grimleal after all. What's up with that?

* * *

"So! Now that you've, uh, shed the old ball and chain, any chance you're willing to hit the town with me later on, get our drink on, maybe woo some lasses? I have to admit, I was digging those songs the other night. I know we're in Plegia and all, but a bar is a bar, and I figure these villagers aren't gonna care who we are."

Third time's the charm, right Gaius? I think I feel a headache coming on.

"You know what? Alright. Today's only just getting started and I already feel like I need a drink," I say, no doubt sounding pretty tired. It's how I feel, anyway.

He throws me some finger guns. I have no idea how a gesture like that evolved without actual firearms being invented. "Don't I know it, Bear. Don't I know it."

We make idle smalltalk, but my heart just isn't in it. In that second run I had a renewed spirit of comradery with the others, but now I'm having to live the same day a third time, and I just want this all to be over. Some part of me is aware that the time would probably pass more quickly if I distracted myself with conversation, but I just can't drum up the energy to keep up with anyone. Gaius quickly takes his leave of me. This time my conversations with Stahl and Cordelia fizzle out quickly. They look somewhat concerned, but I figure they'll just chalk it up to breakup blues and not dwell on it too much.

I feel pretty miserable overall. My body is technically rested, but my head hurts and my mind is stretched thin. People pretty quickly learn to steer clear of me today. In fact, Lissa doesn't bother to come talk to me at all, no doubt having been warned by someone in advance.

I consider trying to find someplace to sleep, just to set a new save point if nothing else, but finding a place to do so proves difficult. All the formerly empty space in the wagons that used to provide a nice hideaway spot is now occupied by extra supplies, especially barrels of water. I should have seen this coming, as I was one half of the duo that loaded them up in the first place. In any case, the result is that there's no place to hide and grab a nap unless I ask a cavalier or pegasus knight to let me snooze on the back of their mount for a while.

You know what? Not such a bad idea, actually. Let's give it a go.

"Sorry Randall. I know you're having a rough time lately, but Fennec really needs to rest her back some in his heat," Stahl apologizes.

"Normally I'd say it wouldn't be a problem, but I've never carried another person on Kestrel for more than a minute or so before, so I don't want to strain him too much in a place like this," Sumia explains.

"Don't you think that would be a little… I don't know, strange? It's not that I don't trust Hyperion to take the weight, but I think it would be a little undignified to have someone taking a nap while we're all marching. Maybe you should take some vulnerary soon if you're in pain," Cordelia says.

"Absolutely not! We're all miserable out here, but just because you're a soft-legged healer, that doesn't mean you can just snooze the day away while we're all slogging along! Come on, take responsibility for yourself and pull the finger out!" Sully scolds me. Arcturus snorts in derision.

I decide I'm not going to ask Frederick.

"Man-spawn, I think I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. I am _not_ a free ride, nor am I a bed," Panne growls. Hey, it was worth a shot.

Looks like I have no choice. As awkward as it might be, she's my only hope.

As I approach Maribelle to ask for just a few minutes of rest, though, I hear shouting from up ahead. No, no, come on, already? It seems my prayer falls on deaf ears, though, as the rest of the Shepherds quickly assemble to begin taking the fight to the Grimleal.

"Fuck this," I grumble as I get my staff ready and start running toward the fray.

I realize as I come to the top of the dune that in the last run the fighting must have been broken up into two battles, as this time it looks like there are a lot more enemies corralled into one place. That also explains where the likes of Chrom, Robin, Lissa, Maribelle, and the others were last time while I was trying to keep Cordelia and the rest of our little squad alive and kicking; there was a second skirmish going on with the other half of the Grimleal.

From here, I can see Robin has taken charge of everyone, gesturing and shouting to get people to box the Grimleal in as much as possible. It's proving difficult, as they have a numbers advantage against us, but with the combined efforts of Lissa, Maribelle, Anna, and me, we're able to keep the melee attackers on our side in good enough condition to hold the line so the ranged attackers can punish from a safe distance. The battle is essentially turning into a repeat of the second battle at Darros Town, with similarly satisfying results. It's looking like we're going to be able to keep them boxed in and take them out without any significant problems.

That is, until suddenly Stahl to my left is hit squarely in the back with a blast of dark magic and is knocked off his horse. Before I can fully process what his being hit in the back means, the enemy in front of him has already taken advantage of his injury by striking at the back of his neck with his axe.

"Stahl, no!" I shout in a panic, flipping my staff quickly and stabbing the barbarian in the chest, knocking him onto his back. Not satisfied with just one blow, I wrench it out and plunge it in again, then a third time for good measure. He stops moving as I pull my staff out with a suctioning _squelch_.

I turn to Stahl. He's not breathing. Shit. I crouch over him and frantically command my Mend staff into action. Fortunately, the flesh starts moving in response to the magic, meaning he's at least technically alive at the moment. Still, that's a massive chunk taken out of his neck. I remember with a shiver the time I read that any body parts completely removed from the whole are not able to be reattached with healing magic, which is why, for example, Basilio is still missing an eye. It's tough to tell with all the armor and blood and mess in the way, but if hypothetically Stahl has had a piece of his neck knocked clean out, there might be permanent nerve damage depending on how much can be reassembled.

I try not to think about it too much as the staff does its work putting him back together. He's still a bloody mess, but after a minute or so he resumes breathing, which alone is a massive relief to me.

A blast of dark magic hits the sand just a few inches from where I'm kneeling over Stahl, making me very nearly shit myself and reminding me that somehow Stahl was hit from behind. It seems not all of the enemy had arrived at the same time, as there's now a third group storming over the dunes to disrupt our formation. Of course, it works, and a large number of us, myself included, are now the ones sandwiched between two groups pressing on us on either side.

In particular, an enemy myrmidon fixes his gaze on me and starts charging toward me, grasping the sword at his hip. Oh Christ, is that the one with the– DODGE THAT KILLING EDGE!

There's no place to back up into anymore, so I have no choice but to try and take on this guy head to head. This is going to suck without having room to maneuver.

Just focus. You managed to kill a Hero-class enemy on your first try a few weeks ago, so this guy should be easy. Sure, you got lucky in many ways in that fight, not least of which was Robin's intervention, but it still proves you can do it. Watch where his attacks are coming from.

Block right, then block vertical. Take a swing with the staff to keep his momentum down, then bat aside the clumsy stab attempt. Receive a kick in the shin; I suppose it couldn't be avoided. Back up as much as you can, favoring the right leg. Block left. Flick up the end of the staff to strike his wrist, leaving his grip weakened. Don'tgetpunchedinthe– okay, you got punched in the face, but it was a glancing blow. Block left again. Steer his sword across his torso, then give him a punch in the face yourself. Give this stab attempt the old Mr. Miyagi wax off, and throw a right hook to his jaw. Wait, he ducked. Hey, what's– Ow.

Dark magic blast to the face. I'm blinded and deafened, and my senses all start screaming at once for attention. I can no longer tell which way is up. I faintly feel the back of my head hit something.

Slowly, my senses of touch and hearing start coming back to life. I still can't see anything, though. I imagine this is what coming back from a flashbang is like. My face is awash in pain as the nerves start waking up, particularly in my eyes, leaving me writhing on the ground as I feel like they're going to fall out of their sockets. Part of me thinks that might be a real danger; who knows what dark magic actually does to such sensitive parts of the body?

I feel footsteps come close and stop next to me. A voice above me speaks over my pained screams in an annoyingly satisfied tone, "Looks like that traveler was right about the Ylissean force coming south through the desert. How sad for you and yours, heretic priest. You aren't worth using my Nosferatu on. I'll just use this." When he speaks again, it is right next to my ear. "Hail Grima."

I hear magic being gathered next to my head, but I can't bring myself to move or do anything else but scream as my head is obliterated by the magic blast.

* * *

I wake up in my tent again. I definitely have a headache now.

"Fucking shit God damn fucking fuck!" I yell at the first living thing I see when I step outside my tent, which happens to be Cordelia's pegasus Hyperion. He snorts, as if offended by my outburst. The yelling just made my head hurt more.

By now, I've developed a theory about why I'm so miserable. You know how you need sleep not just to replenish your body, but also to give your brain a chance to organize and sort information before accepting anything more? When I have to live through the same day multiple times, it's the equivalent of staying awake in bed: the body might be rested just fine, but my brain feels like it's been conscious for what by now I imagine is nearly 36 hours across three runs. Because it has in fact been conscious for that long.

This theory distresses me. It essentially means there are still limits to my power, and they're disappointingly pedestrian limits at that. But it's the best explanation I have for why half of me wants to tear someone's head off and the other half wants to curl up and cry somewhere, when that wasn't the case on the first or even second runs. Now that it's the fourth run, I march with the form and vigor of an unenthused zombie.

"So! Now that you've, uh, shed the old ball and chain, any chance you're willing to… uh, are you alright, Bear?" Gaius pauses in the middle of his pitch to ask when he sees my face, gingerly placing a hand on my shoulder.

I manage a weak smile. "Gaius, when we get to town, I want to get absolutely knocked on my ass at the first bar we see. Wanna make that happen with me?"

He raises a brow for a moment, then perks up again. "Hell yeah we can make that happen. You sure look like you're in need of some cheer, Bear! Or, you know, medical attention maybe. You should probably lie down or something."

I shrug. "Nowhere to do it. Nothing for it but to keep trucking. We've got a deadline, after all."

"What do you mean? All these wagons are full?" he asks.

"I'm pretty sure. I loaded most of these wagons myself with Virion before we left. At best, I could try to curl up in an empty water barrel maybe," I say with a defeated slump in my shoulders.

"You try checking in with Bubbles? Maybe she'd know where you could go to get some shut-eye," Gaius replies.

"Bubbles?" I am forced to ask, my mind blurred by the headache I'm nursing.

He sighs, disappointed in me. "Robin. She should be in the command wagon, I'm pretty sure," he says, pointing at the wagon in question, which is mercifully close.

"I guess it can't hurt. Thanks, Gaius," I say, starting to make my way over.

"Just take care of yourself, Bear," he calls after me.

I knock on the wood frame of the back of the wagon before slipping through the curtain into the command tent. "Anyone home?" I ask, not seeing Robin immediately.

Oh wait, there she is. She has her hood on, so I didn't see her hair with her flopped over the table like that. She's half-sprawled across the table, and after a moment I hear a snore.

"Uhh, Robin?" I say, crossing the wagon over to her. It's only at this time that I notice that this wagon is in fact not packed as full of barrels and crates as the other wagons, leaving some amount of space on the floor. Looks like I might have found my nap ticket after all. I poke her in the shoulder. "Robin, are you alright?" I ask.

She snorts, jerking her head up. A piece of paper sticks to her cheek for a moment, then flutters back onto the table. "Yes? Yes, what do you need?" she asks without properly opening her eyes.

"I feel like shit and have a massive headache. I was going to ask if you knew if there were any wagons with space to grab a nap, but it looks like this one has some open space. Would you mind if I just get a couple hours of sleep under the table or something?" I ask.

Finally she looks fully awake. "Oh, Randall, it's you. Are you sick?"

I rub the back of my head. "I don't know, but I know I'm on the verge of shutdown here. So what do you say?"

She shrugs. "Go for it, long as you don't get in my way planning this trek."

I smirk. "Looked to me like you were grabbing some Z's yourself, I'd say."

Robin scowls. "Just go to sleep. I've got a lot of planning to do yet."

I shrug, then crawl under the table. Robin glances down at me, then reaches over with her foot and slides over a thick book on the floor to me so I can use it as a pillow. I glance at it before laying my head on it. It's an Elthunder tome. She just gave me a literal weapon to use as a pillow. "Thanks, Tarantino."

"That name still doesn't make any sense to me," she sighs.

* * *

" _It sure is a good thing you died this time, don't you think?"_

" _What do you want now?"_

" _That's no way to talk to a friend, is it?"_

" _You're not a friend. You're a figment."_

" _You don't know the difference."_

" _Like hell."_

" _Anyway, like I was saying, isn't it fortunate you managed to get so decisively killed? I mean, if you hadn't been, who knows what would have become of Stahl? Would he have lived? Would he have been stuck a quadriplegic for the rest of his days? Would he have hated you for it? I bet he would have."_

" _Get bent. He wasn't going to die. My staff was working on him."_

" _But the rest of it, you're not so sure. I think you're relieved you got killed."_

" _And if I am? It's better to be able to try again, isn't it?"_

" _You're incompetent. That's why you failed Stahl. I bet others that got caught between the two groups died too. Who was it?"_

" _I'm not listening."_

" _You don't even remember, do you? Who else was put in danger by your incompetence? They probably died just like you, but you don't care."_

" _It was undone. That's all I need to know."_

" _You know, I bet you'd be relieved if everyone in the Shepherds was killed. You wouldn't have to feel responsible for them if they were gone, after all. You could go back to just worrying about just yourself. Like the selfish child you are."_

" _Do you gain anything by being here? Why do you even hang around here?"_

" _I do it to spend time with my friend Mister Randall, don't you know that by now?"_

" _You're not my friend."_

" _I can't believe you'd say that about me after all the times you shared with your dear maid Mindy. You were very adamant about us becoming friends, as I recall."_

" _You're not Mindy."_

" _Why not?"_

" _Fuck off."_

" _So crude. I don't think you're listening to me."_

" _That's what I said before. Maybe you're the one that isn't listening."_

" _If you're going to be like that, maybe I should just go."_

" _Merry fucking Christmas to me."_

" _Just kidding. Peace of mind is only for those who deserve it. You don't deserve anything. You can't even be bothered to remember your friends who died just today. So sick. So desensitized."_

" _Just leave me alone."_

" _You know, my mother hasn't forgiven you either. The last thing she saw was you, just standing there, letting her die for no reason at all."_

" _Leave me alone!"_

" _Apologize."_

" _I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry, now will you please just go?"_

" _I've never heard a more insincere apology, you selfish boy."_

" _I'm sorry."_

" _I don't believe you yet."_

* * *

"...you said to make sure you were up this afternoon, so– oh, uh, hi Randall. Didn't see you down there."

Wuuh?

Waking up is a slow, sore process. It was nice of Robin to spot me a book pillow, but it didn't do much for my neck. My limbs and back are similarly achy, I learn as I attempt to stretch out. As I attempt to get to my feet, I clock my head on the bottom of the table. Rubbing my head, I emerge from beneath.

Oh, hello Chrom. "What's up, cap'n?" I ask.

"What are you doing down there?" he asks in reply.

"Sleeping. I had a headache," I say simply.

He raises a brow. Behind me, Robin says, "Thank you Chrom. How's everyone doing out there?"

I step out of the way so they can talk to each other directly. Chrom replies, "As fine as anyone can be, I would say. I don't think anyone is a fan of this desert."

I chime in, "Understatement of the year."

Chrom gives me a look I'm not used to seeing on his face. I take it my input wasn't appreciated. What's got his panties in a twist? "Quite. But aside from that, supplies are all accounted for according to Frederick, and everyone has been staying hydrated at least."

Robin stands and stretches her shoulders. "That's good. I think I'll come outside myself for a while." She slips off her coat and grabs her belt, to which two swords and two tomes (both of which look like lightning magic of some sort) are strapped, and fastens it around her waist before putting the coat back on. The three of us leave the wagon together.

Before we head to the front to join Frederick, Robin calls back to the group as a whole, "Can we get more Shepherds up near the front of the caravan? I want us to have an intimidating appearance up front in case we run into bandits or anything else out here."

That's unusual. Normally Robin likes to have a more or less equal distribution of Shepherds among the wagons to make sure we have eyes on all sides of the caravan. Is she expecting an attack?

You know, there have been a few things that have been making me wary of Robin a little. It's kinda difficult to remember them, though. There was something we talked about a long time ago, on the night of that second watch, that bothered me, but I still can't remember what it was. It was too long ago now to recall, I'm afraid.

I pull my hood down and shake my head out. Get focused. You've got a fight to win.

Anyway, most of the Shepherds have made their way to the front of the caravan by now. None of them seem particularly perturbed by the order, so I try not to be either.

"Alright, armored units, let's have you up front to set up a nice, scary-looking wall," Robin instructs, and the knights and cavaliers follow suit. Okay, she definitely is suspicious of something. Even a few of the others are glancing at each other intermittently.

Virion beside me asks quietly, "Does Robin seem alright? She looks a touch on edge to me."

I shrug. "Who could say? I think the desert might be cooking everyone's brain a little."

He rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps you are right."

 _Clang!_

An arrow bounces harmlessly off of Kellam's shield, signalling that the fight has begun once more.

The problem with the Shepherds in this situation is that we are a very armor-and-cavalier-heavy team caught in the middle of the sandy ass desert, which means our general mobility is garbage in these conditions. Last time we were able to get them surrounded, but failed to account for the group of reinforcements coming in behind them. The time before that, we got our own group divided, and I don't even know how long we could have lasted after that if I hadn't died. We, or at least I, didn't last long enough for the reinforcements to even show up. In both battles I actually got to see, our problems ultimately came from getting spread too thin on the battlefield and losing the advantage of superior positioning.

This time, however, we have the advantage of most of the group already being assembled up front. Instead of having an enraged Frederick drag the team over the dune or Robin having the Shepherds attempt to surround the enemy prematurely, we can afford to assemble and make the enemy come to us.

We position ourselves near the bottom of a dune so the Grimleal will have no choice but to cross the hill without knowing exactly where we're going to be. Normally I'd be opposed to giving the enemy the advantage of running downhill while we attack uphill, but after the crit hit I took in the first run, I'm not exactly anxious to make a target of myself on top of a hill either, so I suppose this is fine. As the first few start cresting the dune, Virion and the mages start barraging them with ranged attacks, taking out a fair few without so much as a return shot.

Eventually, they seem to catch on, and the dune grows quiet. Robin calls out, "Armored units and swordsmen, brace for attacks from the flanks!" The cavaliers and most of our melee fighters spread out a bit to the sides and get ready to intercept the enemy as they come around the dune rather than go over it. True to Robin's prediction, the Grimleal split themselves in two and try to loop wide around the group, but they aren't enough to smash successfully through our lines. Meanwhile, atop the dune there are a few dark mages trying to take shots on us from above, but our ranged attackers respond quickly, keeping the enemy busy enough that they can't take too many shots themselves.

The enemies on our flanks start to retreat, prompting the melee folks to pursue them and take them out for good. However, I don't like the look of spreading the group too thin; that's what's gotten us in trouble in the past runs.

Robin seems to agree. "Don't pursue! Hold to center!" she commands, but aside from Kellam, the rest must not hear her order over the din of the fight itself, and they chase the Grimleal outside to continue the fight.

This must have been a coordinated effort, because this is when the third group comes crashing down on us over the top of the dune.

"Ah, fuck," I say as I take a quick role and realize we've got mostly healers and ranged attackers left in the core group. Kellam stands ready to defend Miriel, but as for the rest of us, we've got Vaike and Donnel to stand behind and that's about it. The pegasus riders have taken to the air to try and rein in the enemy, but I'm afraid it might do more harm than good, especially if this third group has archers.

Deciding I have to do something to try and keep everyone safe beyond just healing them after the wounds happen, I take a stand alongside Vaike, Donnel, and Kellam, holding my staff like a spear. They're going to connect any second.

Contact. Redirect the myrmidon's sword without blocking it completely, then push his shoulder when he swings around to make him turn his back to you. No time for hesitation; hit him in the back of the head and make him drop his sword. A punishing swing from Vaike's axe finishes him off. Oh shit, another guy, block vertical, block left, blo– and now I've taken a large, painful cut to the upper arm. I make a move to fall back and drink some vulnerary, but before I can, Maribelle is at my side, putting my arm back together.

"Thanks," I say quickly before jumping back in to hold off the guy currently attempting to lop Donnel's head off.

Things are quickly getting out of hand here. There are just too many of them, and they have momentum on their side. The ranged folks can't mow them down fast enough to relieve the line, so we are on constant defensive, which really isn't meant to be our role at all. Except I guess Donny, but he's got a lot of learning to do yet.

Oh crap, that's the boss, isn't it? He's dressed in fancier robes than anyone else, and his face looks kinda familiar, so I'll take it on faith that he's the guy.

"You heathens will pay for your defiance of Grima's will!" the dark mage shouts. Yeah, that'll be the boss.

If we can't change our fortune in this fight really soon, that's gonna be it for this run. I guess that's not so bad, since I did actually get to sleep and reset the save point this time. But just as I'm getting ready to accept death at the hands of what I'm pretty sure is the same myrmidon I fought last time, fortune comes through for us after all.

"Yaaaaaaahahahaha!" I hear a beautifully Russian voice shout as a massive shadow swoops over the dune and comes cascading down, eclipsing the sun in its wake. "Gregor _not_ be liking this flying business!" the army-green-clad mercenary calls from atop everyone's favorite dragon loli as she comes to a skidding halt, knocking friend and foe alike on our asses and generally throwing the whole battle out of whack.

"Let's get 'em!" Nowi shouts in her (terrifyingly loud) dragon voice before grabbing a poor Grimleal in her teeth and shaking him around like a chew toy.

As I get to my feet, I realize I've lost my staff, and in this tangle of struggling bodies, I have no idea where it landed. While looking for it, though, I notice that the boss of the Grimleal (I don't remember his name; he never made much of an impression) also looks like he's looking for something. A few feet in front of me, I spot what he must be searching for: his black tome.

I get to it long before he does, snatching it up from the sand and kicking the head of a stirring Grimleal myrmidon while I'm down there. As I grip the book, though, I notice something weird.

It's vibrating in my hand. Almost tingling, really. I can feel the energy inside the book, held in place only by the runes that adorn each page and keep its magic locked up until a mage releases it.

I flip open the book and gently touch one of the pages. I can feel the runes respond to my touch, and much like when I first picked up my healing staff, I know my body knows how to do this.

I glance at the boss, who's pulled out another tome from somewhere. He brandishes the book threateningly at me. "Unhand my tome, faithless heretic!" he screeches.

An uncontrollable grin springs to my face. "Take it from me, then," I reply, pulling the magic off the page and into my hand. I'm vaguely aware of the ongoing battle around us, but either no one has noticed us or no one seems interested in getting between us.

It's a little hard to describe what magic 'feels' like in a literal sense, but the best I can say is that you do feel it in your hand, you feel its warmth and power as if it were somehow both elastic and gaseous. Like a trampoline made out of a storm cloud. It feels like raw potential in your palm, and I know that I can will this potential into kinetic in the form of what I'm assuming is a Flux spell.

"Rrrgh, all things unto Grima!" the boss shouts, pulling his own spell into his hand. "Your life belongs to the god of annihilation!"

We both hurl our spells at each other. Both make contact, his with my chest and mine with his face. We are both flung onto our backs, clearly hurting from the impact. Only difference being, my resistance must be a good sight better than his, because when I get to my feet, I see that he's still clutching his face and screaming in pain.

So that's how it feels to be on the other side of this interaction.

I step over to him, then stand over him. "Hey, Grimleal," I say. He doesn't reply except to scream and curse. "Say hi to your lame fucking god for me." I do my best not to smile as I pull another spell from the tome and hold it right next to his already blackened, decaying face. I can't deny it's a little cathartic to blast his face into an unrecognizable rotten pulp.

I stand up slowly. "Asshole," I say to the dead priest.

I try stretching my chest. It's only now that I realize how much my chest actually hurts. Super resistance or no, that's a strong spell. I look around to see how the battle is going overall, and see that with Nowi and Gregor's arrival, the tide was fairly well turned in our favor. The Grimleal never really got their momentum back after Nowi crashed the party, so the Shepherds have been cleaning up nicely. Off to the left of me, I see Maribelle and Lissa handling the healing quite aptly, so I turn around to help Anna with the rest of the Shepherds.

Why is Robin staring at me? Oh. It's because I'm still holding the Flux tome. I don't know how I feel about that expression on her face. She's grinning so evilly I could swear her teeth have turned pointed. I drop the book.

"We have a lot to discuss when this is finished," she says, turning back toward the waning battle. I sigh, then follow her.

The rest of the battle, mercifully, goes by without much incident. Anna and I have no trouble keeping our half of the Shepherds in working order as they go and finish off the remnants of the Grimleal. It helps that Nowi is flying around using breath attacks and clawing at the enemy to keep them helpless and in place, while Gregor is flexing his scarily professional side by going through and slitting the throats of every body he finds to ensure they're all really dead. The ones that spread out from the flanks come back as well, not wholly unharmed but not worthy of mortal concern either.

It seems like we have finally won. Thank God. Holy shit I am so done with this desert's crap.

I notice now that basically every crevice of my body and my clothing is now invaded by sand. Ugh.

As I shake out my robe as much as I can to get some sand off, I notice there's a small person standing in front of me.

"Oh, hi there N–you," I say, narrowly managing not to say her name on accident. "You did pretty well out there, saving our asses like that."

She giggles at my light profanity. "No prob! I was gonna say thanks for taking care of that priest guy. He and his goons have been chasing me for a while now. I guess you could say it's kiiiiinda my fault that they were here in the first place."

I lean down to brush some of the sand out of her hair. I wonder if shaking out my robe is what put the sand there in the first place. "Well, as long as you're safe."

She beams. "I am now! Thanks to you guys!"

I hear Chrom ask as he walks over to us, "So, is this the manakete girl that turned the tide in this fight?"

"Bingo," I say.

"Actually, my name is Nowi. Though I guess Bingo is a pretty good name too," Nowi says. "Anyway, can I come with you guys? I don't have anywhere else to go, and I _don't_ want to end up on the auction block again."

There's a brief period where Lissa and some of the others learn what manaketes are, as well as learning that Nowi is a thousand years old. The short version is, we got Nowi. Gregor too, though Chrom handled hiring him before he came to talk to Nowi.

After a bit, things start to calm down again, and because it's still daylight, we decide we will keep going and try to make it to one of the towns along the way by nightfall. So, we start walking again. Joy.

At least Robin has the courtesy to give me a few minutes before coming to talk to me about what I always knew she wouldn't be able to let drop. But once my precious few minutes are up, here she is.

"Sooo, you wanna tell me what that was all about?" she asks.

I sigh again. "Trust me, I have no earthly idea. I just picked it up, and it worked. That's all I can say."

My nonchalance has her all the more riled up. "Don't you see what this means? You've got the aptitude for wielding dark magic tomes! I've read about cases where people can lack an aptitude for anima magic but still manage dark magic, but it's uncommon enough that I never thought to check in your case! This is great!"

"Super. I can melt people's faces or whatever. Best day of my life," I deadpan.

She pouts. "You're deliberately undercutting this. Anyway, we'll have to find someone that can actually teach you, or maybe find a way for you to practice on your own. It worked on the fly this time, but we saw how relying on beginner's luck worked for you with healing staves."

"That's true. I _was_ pretty impressive with that staff when we first met," I say with just a hint of bravado.

She waves a hand dismissively. "Sure, sure. In any case, do you still have the tome?"

I shake my head. "No chance, man. It was an icky book used by an ickier man. Probably had Grimleal cooties on it or something. Even if, and it's a big if, I decide to learn to use these tomes for real, I sure as shit am not using a tome favored by a murderous Grimleal slaver."

"Seems a little superstitious to me. It's just a book, Randall," Robin replies.

"Hey, I'm not superstitious. But I am a little stitious," I say with a grin.

To my eternal joy, she actually gets this one. She snorts, raising her eyebrows in what I can only call a somewhat pitying look. "Whatever you say, I suppose. We'll just have to get you a tome elsewhere, then."

"We'll see," I reply. I don't want to commit to anything yet.

"In any case, I've gotta add this to the chart," she says, starting toward the command wagon.

"What chart?" I ask, following behind her.

She looks at me like I'm a moron for asking. "The chart that documents who is capable of handling which weapons and tools. With melee weapons it's a little more nuanced, but with the magical crowd it's good to keep track of which types of magic each person has the capacity to use. It's good to keep track of people's potential. And charts are the way to do that."

"Charts? As in, charts in the plural? What other charts do you keep on us?" I ask a little incredulously.

"I keep people ranked relative to each other on strength, speed, bulkiness, agility in combat, resistance to magic –a list you currently top, by the way– tendency to take charge in high stress situations, general agreeableness, shortness of temper, height, weight, et cetera. I also keep documented the Shepherds' countries of origin, current residence when not on the road, dietary restrictions –so far limited to Panne– sleep habits, standout hobbies, noticeable fears or phobias, and birthdays. Additionally, and you cannot talk about this one, I keep track of the current romantic prospects of the Shepherds." She glances at me. "That one changes pretty regularly."

I'm speechless for a moment. "...When did you get everyone's weight? And how?" I finally ask.

"That's for me to know," she replies, a knowing look in her eye.

"And you feel like you need to have all this information on everybody?"

She shrugs. "Better to have it on record, right?"

I scoff. "Talk about OCD."

Wait. That reminds me of something. What was it… I remember this, I know I do. Oh! It was what I was thinking about that night!

" _It very obviously is not nothing. I'm not going to make you do anything, so you can stop worrying about that. I just want to know what's up. I know I seem like a… what did you call it? OCD, I think it was."_

That was what she said that bothered me. But why did it bother me so much? Come on, just think… When else did we talk about that? Oh! It was back when we had to save Virion's sorry ass from getting assassinated.

" _Though you have to admit, getting into the Shepherds isn't exactly difficult," I say. "You and I managed it the same day that Virion did, and you're an amnesiac with what appears to be mild OCD and I'm a novice healer without a day's experience prior to joining up. Compared with Virion's undeniable skill with a bow, I'd say we were the lucky recruits that day."_

" _When you put it like that…" Robin says, rubbing the back of her head. "Wait, what's OCD?"_

 _I consider explaining what I actually know about OCD (I took a psych class once), but then I remember that this universe has yet to get down the basics of how gravity works. "Basically, you're the queen of the micromanagers. You have to know where everyone is and what they're doing basically all the time."_

Why does that bother me? It was just a normal conversation. I try to remember what happened next.

" _Trouble! I'm heading in. You hang back here a minute," Robin commands, jumping to her feet and emerging from behind the bush to rush to the barn. Before I can warn her to be careful (or say anything else, for that matter), I hear a few_ thunks _, and Robin hits the ground, newly perforated by arrows along her right side._

The pieces fall into place. That conversation took place in an abandoned timeline. We never had that conversation, as far as anyone else should be concerned. She definitely shouldn't know what that means, since I never explained it to her again after that. But she recalled and used the term anyway.

She remembers events from timelines that didn't ultimately come to pass.

I realize I haven't been paying attention to whatever Robin's been saying right in front of me.

"Uh, Randall? You alright?" Robin asks.

I blink. "What? Yeah. I'll talk to you later, okay?" I say, waving limply and shuffling off.

"Alright, I guess," she slowly half-asks.

Once I'm on my own, I start going back over the events of the past few months. I don't want to be wrong on this. Until now, it never occurred to me that I might not be the only one that can relive timelines, but if it can happen for me, why not for her too?

What evidence do I have, aside from the weird OCD thing? For one thing, it's always felt like her strategies are adaptive across timelines. She never has the same plan twice, even if nothing about her day before the battle should have changed. And they're not small changes, either; our entire plan of attack changed at least twice today across runs. On top of that, she was weirdly sleepy today too. Almost as if she too has been dealing with the mental strain of multiple runs. I've always assumed that she just sleeps poorly, and she does, but maybe there was more to it.

It's a start. I'm sure if I dug and analyzed further I'd find more, but maybe the best thing to do is to just ask her about it. Though just up and asking 'Oh hey, do you by chance possess the ability to evade death and respawn at the point you last woke up whenever you are killed?' seems a little strange to me. Definitely not a question a sane person asks. And I've been keeping up the illusion of sanity pretty well so far, I'd like to think.

Plus, if she doesn't have the power, that would mean I'd be admitting to someone who couldn't possibly understand what it's like that I have the power to go back and, in theory, fix any mistake. That's a dangerous thing to let anyone know, for sure.

How can I possibly approach this?

"So, you are priest who beat people in face with staff, yes?" I hear behind me. Of course, there's no mistaking who that is.

"I see my reputation precedes me," I reply, turning to look at Gregor as he approaches. "Though I should clarify, I'm not a priest. I just think the robe is cool."

He lets out a barking, gruff laugh. "Is better this way! For priest to drink is no good. But for regular man, is fine. So, we get to town, and we go to bar, and you drink with us, yes?"

"Who's 'us' exactly?" I ask. It's just a formality, of course. I would gladly get my drink on with just Gregor if he asked. He seems like this world's best possible drinking buddy.

Gregor narrows his eyes, trying to recall names no doubt. Eventually he gives up. "We go with many people. There is small man who smell like sugar, blond man with big arms and bigger axe, green horse fighter man, red horse fighter lady, always-tripping flying horse lady, scary hairy rabbit lady, and red hair lady who dress like rich clown. You go with us and have great time!"

"Sounds like a party to me," I say. "Wait. Panne wants to go drinking with everyone?"

"Which is Panne?"

"The Taguel." He looks at my blankly. "Rabbit lady?"

He breaks out into a grin. "Ah, yes. Gregor have tough time convincing her to join, but after while, no woman can turn down invitation from Gregor."

A voice interrupts us. "Is that so, Gregor?" It's Robin, come to join our conversation.

He beams confidently at her. "Is very much so! To prove point, would white-hair planning lady like to join?"

She smirks. "And what if I were to say no?"

Unshaken and without hesitation, Gregor replies, "Then Gregor extend invitation again. It will be great time!"

"What if I say no again?" Robin asks.

Gregor sighs. "Then you leave Gregor no choice. Gregor offer for beard healing man to pay for all drinks of white-hair planning lady for whole evening."

I double-take. "I'm sorry? When did I become an element of your failsafe plan to invite women out?" I ask him incredulously.

Robin bursts out laughing. "Well, I can't very well turn down a deal like that, can I?"

I whirl on her. "I mean, you definitely _could_. I do not consent to this arrangement."

Gregor claps me on the back with his shovel of a hand. "Hee hee haw, is too late already. See look of joy in woman's face? No man should take look of joy like that away."

She waves a hand dismissively. "I'm just messing with you, don't worry. I still have planning to do, including adding Gregor and Nowi to the roster, so you guys can go ahead."

Gregor looks more than a little defeated. I decide to speak up on his behalf. "You know, you could let that stuff wait a night. We had a really tough go of it today. It might be nice to loosen up for a while." Especially if I'm right about you.

She gives an apologetic smile. "Another time, promise," she says, and heads off to the command wagon. She pauses for a moment and looks back at me. "If you see any of the armored and mounted division, give them a smack on the head from me. Tell them to listen to orders in the field next time. Our formation falling apart nearly got people killed."

I raise a hand. "Gotcha. Several head slaps, coming up." She heads off for real.

Gregor claps a hand on my shoulder. "Bah, is no problem if she is busy. We simply drink enough to make up for loss of her company!"

As tired as I still am, I can't deny getting a couple drinks in me sounds like just what the doctor ordered. And I would know. In this world, _I'm_ a doctor.

* * *

Before too long, we arrive in one of the towns surrounding the miraculous oasis that normally would have marked the battlefield where we'd fight the Grimleal, but since they turned up early, there's no such negative connotation attached to the place anymore. They're just some nice village folk who happen to be living in a country that's about to get bodied in this war.

Speaking of, I wonder why the Grimleal attacked us when and where they did. In one of the runs, the boss mentioned a traveler that tipped them off to us coming, but that doesn't happen in-game. I'm pretty sure the Shepherds run into the Grimleal by coincidence as the latter are chasing Nowi in the game.

I mentally chide myself. You dummy. So much stuff has changed from how you remember it. Like the paralogues with Victor and Vincent, for example. They're not supposed to happen at the same time, but they did for some reason. So you can't expect your memory of the canon to always line up. What was the reason for Vincent coming back, anyway?

Wait. I remember something Vincent said.

" _That traveler was right! Victor was in trouble! I wasn't fast enough!"_

That's right! He mentioned a traveler too! Could it be the same person? If so, why are they following the same route we are? What could be their plan, if anything? I'll have to keep an eye and an ear out for more about this mysterious traveler. Could this be a consequence of Aventine getting away from us? Maybe he's having us tailed or something. I heard the reports; they never found his body. I assume he's still out there somewhere. Be a lot nicer if just found a nice ditch to die in or something.

I consider again. Maybe this traveler's just a person who actually does try to help random strangers as they travel by tipping them off about oncoming military forces?

I sigh. When has anything ever turned out that neatly tied up?

By the time Gregor and I get to the pub he directed everyone toward, the rest of the group is already there, and we're the last ones in.

Vaike raises a glass to us as we walk through the door. "If it isn't the guy who saved our asses just in the nick of time today!"

The others at the table everyone's gathered around raise their glasses too. "Ayyy!" they shout in accord.

Vaike says, "Before we really get going, how about a quick toast to the man of the hour, eh?" Everyone shouts in agreement again.

I won't deny, I'm a little surprised. Flattered, too. I didn't think killing that Grimleal was such a big deal, but I suppose he _was_ the boss after all. I guess it did feel a little badass to wield magic like that, now that I consider it. I smile at everyone gratefully.

I take a step forward. "Everyone, tha–"

"To Gregor!" Vaike shouts.

"To Gregor!" responds everyone else, and they all take a drink.

O-oh. Okay then. I'm a little embarrassed to myself, but thank Christ I didn't manage to say much out loud before that got cleared up. Hopefully in this somewhat dim lighting, no one can see me reddening.

Gaius shouts, "It's not every man that comes riding through the skies on a manakete to save a group of strangers he has no obligation to!"

Sumia chimes in, "Of course, we should thank Nowi too, but since she isn't here, we'll settle for thanking you for now, Gregor."

Gregor has a spot at the center of the table with a frothy glass waiting for him, so he takes a seat, grinning like a kid on Christmas. "Hah, is nothing! No trouble at all, new friends!" Ignoring the glass on the table, he pulls out a flask from a pouch on his belt and takes a mighty swig. Everyone cheers.

I, meanwhile, have to pull up a chair to sit at the end of the table, where I become a bit of a third wheel for Stahl and Panne. I head briefly to the bar in back and decide I'll give Plegian whiskey a try. Maybe I'll be able to taste the difference? I've never been much of an expert before, but who knows? This is a new body, after all. Maybe this one has a more refined palate.

I take a sip as I head back to the table. Aside from a few grits that I assume are just sand particles getting into the mix, it's surprisingly unassuming. I expected it to taste… eviller. I'm lightly disappointed.

As I sit down, Stahl asks, "Were you saying something earlier, Randall? We kind of interrupted you with that toast."

I feel some color return to my face. "Nah, it was nothing. How are you guys after today? No aches or anything?"

Stahl replies, "I'm all fine. Are you good, Panne?"

"I am mostly well, but I was hit at one point in the battle by a sword pommel on my left buttock. It still aches, even though the fight was hours ago. I am out of vulnerary as well. Can you examine it?" she asks, already standing up, turning, and bending down to show the spot in question.

Stahl and I act as one. "Whoa whoa whoa," we say, raising our hands to stop her. We draw a few eyes from further down the table. I add, "I'll take a look at it later, but let's not, uh… at the table."

She turns back around, frowning. "I do not understand. Am I not meant to show you my injuries when you ask me to?"

I look to Stahl for aid. He shrugs. I look back to her. "It's a little different when the injury is… there."

"Why?" Panne asks.

Stahl comes to my rescue. "I'll tell you later." He turns to me. "We've been trying to help each other learn a little more about one another's cultures. It's been really fascinating."

"Quite. In any case, my drink is empty. I am going to get another. Stahl, do you have my money pouch?" Panne asks.

"Yeah, right here," he says, tossing a small cloth pouch to her. She heads off to the bar. "Panne likes to be light on her feet, so I offered to carry some of her stuff for her. I'm not nearly so agile, and I'm usually on Fennec anyway, so it's no trouble for me," he explains to me.

I give him some side-eye. "Oho, I see your game."

"What game? There's no game!" he protests.

"Uh huh. You know, when she turned around, I noticed her tail. It's quite fluffy, wouldn't you agree?" I ask.

He looks confused. "Um… yes?"

"Do you like her fluffy tail?"

He looks like he's being interrogated by the police. "Sure?"

"Would you go so far as to say you'd want to… touch the fluffy tail?"

The man looks truly at a loss. "I… I guess?"

"Fair enough," I say simply.

Panne returns holding a frothing mug.

"I have to say, it's a little surprising to see you coming out to drink with us," I tell her. "I didn't think social engagements, or alcohol for that matter, were really your thing."

"You are correct, at least about human social engagements. They are not my preference," she says, then punctuates the thought with a long sip. "Alcohol is… strange. But it warms the belly pleasingly."

"What did Gregor have to say to get you to come? He mentioned he had a hard time convincing you."

She pauses, considering. "It would not be fair to say Gregor convinced me of anything. But since Stahl has been making an effort lately to create dishes that a taguel can more easily digest, I felt that I owed him a favor, and told him as much. He told me that joining this group for a night of celebration is how he wanted to make good on that favor."

I waggle my eyebrows at him. "You sly dog."

"By the way, Stahl. Why, if you want to touch my tail so badly, did you not make that your favor?" Panne asks.

"Y-you heard that?" Stahl asks, aghast.

Panne strokes one of her ears. "Even in this din, I can hear your elevated heart rate at this very moment. Of course I could hear you."

"W-well, the thing about that is–"

The conversation is interrupted by the center of the table bursting into chants of "Go, go, go!" as Gregor knocks back what was left in his flask before chasing it with the beer the others had bought him. Sully, Vaike, Anna, and Gaius all cheer as he slams the glass onto the table. I'm amazed it doesn't break.

"That reminds me. I'm empty too. Back in a second," I say, rising from the table and heading to the back. I'm hoping to give my boy some time for a bit.

As I'm paying for my drink, the bartender says, "You're the Shepherds, right? That lot from Ylisse?"

I had almost forgotten we are deep in Plegian country. Still, it won't really help to lie. "Yeah, we are. I hope that's not an issue for you. I know we're technically your enemies and all."

He scoffs. "I'm no friend of King Gangrel or his government. To be totally honest with you, even the Grimleal have worn out their welcome. Used to be, they'd just make sure you were going to temple once a week with everyone else, but they'd mostly leave everyone alone and proselytize harmlessly on street corners. More recently, though, they've become an extension of Gangrel's military, and they're all too happy to search people's homes and businesses to see if we're housing any Ylisseans or Ylisse sympathizers. Even if they didn't find anything, and they never did, they'd still usually take some food or valuables under the guise of 'inspection.' By now, I'd say most of the folks around here won't miss Father Chalard" (so that was his name!) "and his men at all. No different from General Campari and the military regulars. The point is, your money is good here. In fact," he addresses the room in general, "to everyone belonging to the Shepherds of Ylisse! Your next drink is on the house!"

Everyone raises their glasses and cheers.

* * *

"No no no, Gregor, it goes like this:

 _Whack for my daddy-o!_

 _Whack for my daddy-o!_

 _There's whiskey in the jar!_

Why the hell are you saying 'Whack for my daddy Finn'?" Gaius slurs across the table.

"My father's name not O, silly thief. My father named Finn. Good, strong name. Who is Daddy O?" Gregor replies, seemingly much more sober. Sumia giggles next to him.

"Yeah, but… It's not… You just… You know what? I think I'm gonna go to bed," Gaius says at last, rising unsteadily from the table.

Vaike rises too, arms outstretched to catch him if he falls. "Easy there tiger. Sully, you wanna give me a hand with this one?"

"If he hurls on me, I'm dumping him headfirst in the oasis," she warns as she supports his other side.

Sumia starts to get up. "I-I'll come too! In case he, you know, needs me for so– _oof_!" she starts to say before she stumbles on her chair's legs and falls on her ass. "Oww… Anyway, I'm coming too."

As half the group starts making its way toward the exit, Anna says, "So, I guess that's the sign that this little party is wrapping up. You're picking up my tab, right big guy?" She touches Gregor's arm briefly as she gets out of her chair.

He nods. "That was agreement. Fun times had by all, yes?"

Stahl says, "Absolutely. What about you, Panne? Did you enjoy yourself?"

From where I'm sitting, I can see her tail twitch. Cute. "I did not… hate this excursion, I suppose. I would perhaps be willing to do something like it again."

I can't tell if it's her statement or the alcohol that's making Stahl this red. "I'm… really glad to hear that, Panne."

I stand up. "I think that's our cue to go as well, Greg."

He looks at me. "What? What is–" He glances at Stahl. "Ooh. Gregor understand. Let us turn in for evening. Thank you, mister barman!" We both make a somewhat stumbling exit.

We don't speak much on our way back to the inn we've been allowed to stay in for the night (I'm just assuming the locals here _really_ didn't like Chalard), but as we reach the room he's sharing with Lon'qu, Virion, and Vaike, Gregor turns and claps his hand on my shoulder.

"Is good to be traveling with good people. Gregor had too many bad employers in past. To be with kind people again… makes Gregor very glad," he says.

"I feel the same way. I can tell we've found a good guy in you as well," I say.

To my surprise, a very brief look of doubt flashes across his face. It's gone before I know it, though. "Here is hoping Gregor live up to high expectations."

I turn to leave. "Good night, Gregor."

"Good night, beard healing man."

"Just so you know, it's Randall," I remind him.

"Gregor will try to remember," he says kindly.

"And be careful if you're sharing a bed with Virion. He's, uh, pretty affectionate in his sleep," I say.

"Thank you for warning, Randall."

I raise a hand in farewell and start making my way to the room I'm sharing with Ricken, Gaius, and Donnel. When I open the door, a somewhat distressing sight awaits me.

"Good luck making that work," Ricken says sleepily from the bed he's currently occupying with the snoring Donnel. By 'that,' he refers to the exceedingly hammered Gaius currently draped over the entirety of the bed I guess I'm meant to share with him.

I scowl at the pair in the other bed. "And you guys didn't even _try_ to keep him in check?"

"Look, there's only so much we could do. Gaius might not be the biggest guy in the army, but he's kinda scary when he wants to be," Ricken replies. "He was a career thief before he joined us, after all."

"I suppose that's fair," I concede. I weigh my options. I could try to fight him for space on this bed, or I suppose I could try to find a place elsewhere. Since Chrom's got his own room tonight, that leaves Kellam, Stahl, and Frederick in the other men's room. I figure since Stahl and Kellam are such close buddies, they'd be sharing a bed. Which means I'd be sharing a bed with Frederick.

"Gaius, move your ass," I say forcefully, flopping him into a position where he only takes up half the bed. Instantly, he moves to get back into his old position. I move him again. He aggressively jerks back to his spread-eagle pose.

Ricken does his best to hide his snickering, but to no avail. I glare at him. "Oh, you think he's funny, do ya?"

"A little," he says, unable to keep a smug air out of his voice.

"Well, since you like him so much," I say, lifting Gaius out of the bed entirely. He squirms in vague protest. I turn around and drop him between Ricken and Donnel, pinning the former against the wall. "You can have him."

"Randall, wait! This isn't fair!" Ricken complains, lightly muffled by the sugary thief's shoulder in his face.

I lie triumphantly in my now-solo bed. "Donnel doesn't seem to mind. Neither does Gaius. You've been outvoted, my man," I say.

Ricken lets out the groan of a man who knows he's been beaten. Meanwhile, the combination of drink and extreme mental fatigue whisks me off to sleep faster than he can form a rebuttal.

* * *

Even without attacks from freaky cultists to slow us down, I still hate the desert.

"Oh yeah, I meant to do this a few days ago actually."

 _Thwack!_

This time, I knew it was coming. I chose to do nothing. Since she didn't get to do it yesterday, I kinda figured she'd be closing in for a punch pretty soon.

Doesn't make it hurt any less. Though this time I think I understand it a little more. It's her own way of trying to tell me that things haven't changed between us, even after Maribelle and I cut things off. I appreciate the sentiment. I'd appreciate it more if it didn't smart so much.

"There. Now we're even," she says with finality.

"Thanks, Lissa," I reply.

She cocks her head a little. "Did you just thank me for hitting you? That's a new one."

I shrug. "Nothing else seemed like the right thing to say."

"Weirdo. Anyway, I'm actually here to deliver a message. Robin wants to see you in the command tent, pronto."

"What for?"

"She didn't say. Just that it's important and it pertains to our plan to rescue Emm. So move it, mister!" She makes a shooing gesture with her hands.

"Fine, fine. Talk to you later," I say, taking my leave of her.

When I get to the command tent, Robin is standing at the war table, gazing intently at the map. She looks up as I enter.

"Good, you're here. Make sure we don't have any eavesdroppers, please," she says. "And close the wagon."

I poke my head out the door, where Lissa is walking suspiciously close to the wagon. "You there! Git!" I say. She makes a noise between a growl and a groan and stalks off.

I reenter the wagon. "We're good. So what's this about the plan?"

"This isn't really about that just yet," she says.

"Then whatcha need?"

I've seldom seen a more serious expression on her face. "I've been going over my notes, and I think I know what's going on. I need you to be absolutely honest with me, okay?"

"Sure."

She swallows. "Randall, have you ever died before?"

Oh.

Well that answers that.

* * *

 **A/N: Whew. This one was a doozy. I figured since I've taken more than two weeks to you, I owed you guys a particularly beefy chapter. So here you go: by far the longest chapter yet. That was also because there wasn't really an organic place to cut it, so I decided to just give you guys the whole thing. And we sure covered a lot of ground! Dark magic aptitude, the mysterious traveler, our dear Robin's revelation, and so on. Not to mention my main man Gregor finally enters the story. I've been looking forward to that for a while. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed!**

 **To all those that reviewed last chapter, I sincerely thank you. I knew busting up that relationship would be an unexpected move, but it seems that most of you guys are willing to roll with it, which is super encouraging to me. In particular, I gotta thank Caellach Tiger Eye, who wrote basically a book of his own reviewing the story up to this point. I hope this chapter pushes the development of Randall more in the direction you (and other reviewers) have been hoping for. He still has much to learn, and his more passive role as a healer has allowed him to get away with shying away from major growth, but that kind of luxury doesn't last, which we got a taste of this time.**

 **As always, I have to thank the lovely Syntaxis, always steering me onto a better path with this story. If you haven't checked out An Odd Awakening yet, you should. Very good stuff. And here is your out of context Syntaxis quote of the week: "It's a booty joke. What sort of monster doesn't appreciate butt jokes?"**

 **And finally, as always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**


	22. Ch 22: Sully Gets Reverse-Bitten

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 22: Sully Gets Reverse-Bitten**

"Well?" she asks expectantly.

If she's asking a question that specific, I guess there's no way she doesn't know I have the power. Just like cross-examination: never ask a question you don't know the answer to. Robin would make a good lawyer.

I don't think I could get away with lying to her about this. I don't think I'd want to if I could.

I shrug and let my arms slap against my sides as I lower them. "Yeah, I have."

"And you're not joking?"

"No…? That would be really weird to joke about, I would think."

"Okay. I just wanted to be sure. How many times have you died?"

That's actually a good question. Let's see…

" _W-what…?"_

" _See you in hell, pal."_

 _The last thing I see before the heat renders my eyes useless is Chrom standing helplessly on the other side of the lava wave, watching me get swallowed by fire and molten rock._

" _Ooooh, look at mister big man over here, he can only land a hit on his enemies if they're tied up and sitting in front of him cuz axe accuracy is consistently shit. He's so tough, isn't he, Maribelle?"_

" _Say hello to blondie down there."_

 _There's a guy on the roof. God damnit._

 _I think of Maribelle. How devastated she looked. The way she sobbed over his body. I can prevent this. I will prevent this._

 _What the fuck was that?_

" _A man of the cloth, sticking a man in the gut? You Ylisseans are hypocrites, the lot of you."_

" _Hail Grima."_

"I count ten times," I say at last. "So far," I add.

She nods slowly. "That makes sense, then. It's starting to come together." She sits down in the chair behind the table and gestures for me to sit opposite her. I oblige.

"So," I say as I'm sitting down, "am I to understand that you have this power too? You can respawn as well?"

"Respawn… that's a weird word for it. But yes, that's right."

"So, if you've been planning this conversation for a while, I assume you've been suspecting I have this power for a while too, right? Wanna talk me through that?" I don't want to be in the dark on anything she knows if I'm going to be open about my power with anyone, even someone who shares the power with me.

"Yes. In truth, the first time I thought something was strange was the day we met. The very first time we met, in the fight where you died from an axe to the head, you called out to Lissa to look out for an attacker. You called her by name, even though two versions of the fight later I learned that you weren't acquainted with the Shepherds yet." (I grimace inwardly. That wasn't intentional at all, and even worse, I can't explain even accounting for the respawning power. I hope she hasn't thought too hard about that.) "At the time, I merely chalked it up to the royal family being famous and you knowing her name that way, but it still prompted me to keep a closer eye on you in the future.

"The second time I suspected something was that same night, when in one version of events it was you that went into the woods with Chrom, but in the other it was Lissa. That seemed a little too strange to be just a matter of chance, so I thought other forces might be at work. But then we met Marth, and there seemed to be magical improbabilities happening everywhere around us, so I put it out of my mind for the time being.

"The next notable event was, again, quite small, but it stood out to me. When we had our final version of events at the Border Pass, Aversa came after you specifically even though she had not in previous versions. I figure, looking back on it, you probably got frustrated and said something pretty stupid to her that got her riled up. Am I wrong?"

I hang my head. "You're not."

"So, that was different. In addition, when you woke from Maribelle's healing, you were initially in quite the panicked state. Of course, that could be a natural reaction for anyone, but it would be especially appropriate for someone with this power. You didn't want to seal the events of the fight if they hadn't been going our way. Still, at this point it was mostly idle theories in the back of my mind, with little concrete evidence to back them.

"That changed when we saved Virion. You must know that I was killed that night, but when I was shot, I was unable to find out the precise positions of the enemy on my own. I was angry that I was about to lose without finding out anything useful."

I cut in. "That's why you were so intent on asking me where they were and how many there were. I remember now."

" _R-Randall!" Robin cries on the ground. "Where are they? Where are they?" I guess that answers the question of whether she's alive._

" _Off to the right!" I call back. In the faint starlight, I can make out a few shapes moving behind a low stone retaining wall a few dozen feet away._

" _How many?" Robin asks frantically._

I continue, "You were already getting yourself ready for the next run, so you were just in info-gathering mode at that point, right?"

She nods. "That's right. But then, to my surprise, in the second… did you call it a 'run'? That's a much easier term. Anyway, in the second run, when we were planning our attack, you suggested we look out for a man on the roof, wholly unprompted. I had never seen a man on the roof myself in the first run, so that was information you had alone. Of course, it could have just been good intuition, but when there actually was a man there, my suspicion was officially solidified. You had a piece of information that I had not. I don't like believing in coincidence, so I decided to keep a closer eye on you from then on."

I reply, "Now that I think about it, I remember being amazed that you were able to discern just based on some different information from Virion that he was going to be attacked that night. Turns out, you were just pretending to have some amazing revelation, when really it was just because you'd already seen it. And here I had decided it was just because you were a genius."

She scowls. "Well you did the same thing! Agreeing with me so readily was suspicious too, so there!" She clears her throat. "In any case, not long after that, the war caught up to us in the form of the assassination attempt on Emmeryn, so I had no choice but to put the matter out of my mind and focus on keeping the Exalt and the Shepherds safe. I don't know that we've ever had a truly tougher battle before or si–"

I interrupt, having remembered something. "That's why you were so freaked out when we fought off Emmeryn's assassins and the enemy's attacks left you unconscious!"

 _As I turn to leave, though, Robin wakes up and is instantly panicked._

" _Is everyone okay? Did anyone get hurt? Killed?" she demands of Lissa, who's been standing nearby to check up on her._

 _A little taken aback at first, Lissa recovers quickly and says, "Everyone's fine, Robin. Vaike and Donnel are unconscious from their injuries but should make a speedy recovery, and everyone else is okay."_

 _With a sigh, Robin slumps back down on the bench they had laid her on. "You people are going to stress me into an early grave someday," she says to the ceiling._

"You were scared someone might have been killed or seriously injured while you were out because you couldn't go back! I remember it kind of freaked me out how uncharacteristically panicked you were."

"That's right as well. Their leader was a powerful enemy, more than I accounted for on the first attempt. But when I realized that I was not waking up in my bed as I had that morning, but rather in the halls of the palace, I knew I had not died. Anything that had gone wrong was now set in stone. Fortunately, nothing had."

"One of the few battles we've had that didn't require any respawns, as I recall."

She pauses for a moment, then continues her story. "Well in any case, no further incidents happened for a while in that regard, as the battle at Breakneck Pass generally went quite well. Well, except for you getting thrown off a cliff." I wink at her. "Right. Anyway, the most significant clue came about in Darros Town. After the battle was over, Maribelle came to us looking extremely run-down. She was looking for you. Apparently you had told her you were going to get help."

I feel an icy grip on my gut. "Oh. Yeah, that's true."

"Well, when you didn't turn up, she went looking for you. Eventually, she found you. Or perhaps more accurately, she found your body."

The grip tightens. "She saw that?"

"Yes. Naturally, she screamed at the sight of it, signaling to Chrom and me where you were. I found the location and circumstances of your corpse most unusual. It awoke my old theory with renewed fervor."

"But what did Maribelle do?" I ask urgently. "She wasn't supposed to see that."

"Well, like I said, she was screaming... Crying... We couldn't pull her away from your body even for long enough to really inspect it." She looks reluctant to tell me any of this.

"That's… I…" I'm not sure how to say what I'm thinking.

She doesn't seem to want to look at me. I wonder faintly what my facial expression must be like. "If it helps to hear this, it's those sort of reactions that give me the strength to go back when things go wrong. I knew I had to erase that pain from her if I could. I shudder to think what the rest of the Shepherds would have done when they found you. By the way, why did you kill yourself, anyway?"

A little numbly, I reply, "Ricken had been killed. I had to go back to save him."

Robin blinks. "I didn't know. We had been assuming he was with Stahl and the others pursuing the stragglers. That certainly explains it.

"In any case, the way you had died made me think that the wound must have been self-inflicted. It was at that time that I decided it was most likely we shared the power. Of course, the next step was to get away from them and… respawn, myself. But since that time, I have assumed that you share the power.

"Then we get to the battle with the Grimleal. Nothing out of the ordinary, except for the surprising difficulty of the fight, until on the fourth run, when you came into the wagon to get some sleep, something you'd never done before. And you'll recall, I was more than a little worn down myself. It was the surest sign I could think of that you were experiencing all the struggles of these repeated battles with me."

I shake my head a bit, trying to take my mind off of Maribelle for a moment. Robin erased that moment, you dumbass. It didn't really happen in the end. Just calm down. "So is that what made you want to finally confront me on this?"

She rubs the back of her head. "Actually, I've wanted to for a while. But to be honest, I was a little reluctant to bring it up until I had truly solid evidence and couldn't avoid it any longer. As useful as it is to know this, if it had been the case that you actually had no idea what I was talking about, then I'd be telling someone who doesn't share the responsibility of this power."

I finish for her. "And that would have made it necessary to go back and make sure no one else finds out."

She nods. "No one who doesn't have this power could really hope to understand. Even though I've had to do it a fair few times already, I confess that the actual act of killing myself is still… traumatic. I don't want to do it if I don't have to."

"Oh yeah, I meant to ask. You know I've died ten times. But what about you?"

"I too have died ten times. Twice in Southtown, once in the forest north of Southtown, once on the road to the Plegian border to rescue Maribelle and you, once at the Border Pass, once outside Ylisstol while working to save Virion, once in Darros Town, and three times with the Grimleal."

"Almost all in the same times and places as me. Well, except that fourth one. You died on the way to the Plegian border? Why?"

"During a Risen ambush, we were caught off-guard. Vaike and Donnel got separated, and Donnel was still extremely inexperienced. They swarmed him. He didn't make it. To make matters much worse, Chrom died in the act of trying to save him. Even though we technically won the fight, once the battling was finished I went away from everyone and used my Thunder tome to respawn," she says, sounding weirdly clinical and calculating about it, as if she wants to get talking about that part over with as quickly as she can. "What about you? What happened on your end?"

I'm a little embarrassed to admit it. "I maaay have pissed off a guard while we were on the wagon ride from our dungeon to the canyon. He took it out on my head. With an axe." She opens her mouth to say something, but I interrupt. "In my defense! I didn't think he'd really do it."

"I don't know why I'm surprised," she says, shaking her head. "So in most cases where we died, we died in the same place, around the same time. Almost certainly on the same day every time, assuming the Risen ambush and your, um, incident with the guard happened on the same day. The ambush was the morning of the rescue."

"Then yeah. Same day every time."

She leans on the table, elbows resting on the map of the region laid out across the wood. "I want to clear things up between us as much as possible. How did you die the second time in Southtown? We never saw you."

"Bandits found me before I found you guys. Got stomped into a pulpy mess and had my throat slit. Good clean fun. How did you die that time?"

"A couple mages got the better of me. Lack of resistance to magic has always been my greatest weakness on the battlefield. The first time, though, I took an axe to the head, same as you."

"And the forest?"

"That was my first intentional death. When I learned you had been killed by the lava, I simply allowed the Risen to kill me. It wasn't quick, but it got the job done."

"Oof, sounds like fun. I don't recommend death by lava, by the way," I reply. "I remember now, that you were the last thing I saw before I died after falling down the canyon at the Border Pass. Did you punch in your own ticket after that one too?"

"Yes. By then, I had learned it was easier to just do it myself, at least in terms of reducing pain. Remember how that bandit chief in Southtown looked when I was through with him? I imagine I appeared something similar."

I grimace, the memory of that sight returning to me quite vividly even after all this time. "Lovely. And the night of Virion's attempted assassination, you were the one who died first. I tried to keep the fight up, but I didn't account for the guy on the roof until he was already pumping me full of arrows."

"So that's how you knew to check the roof for another archer."

"Yup!"

"And then in Darros Town… I saw your handiwork."

"Yeah…" I think again about what it must have been like for Maribelle to have to see a scene like that. Even if she thought it was a murder, not a suicide, that's really awful. "It was the first time I ever had to actually do it to myself. You've got a little more experience in that regard."

"And finally, we get to yesterday. Of course, you probably don't remember much of the first fight. We were taken totally off-guard. I tried to gauge the size of the enemy force, but I was much more focused on making sure I died before I ended up somehow unconscious and some well-meaning blonde healer or other would bring me back and seal your death. In the second fight, I was taken down by a trio of Grimleal mages, again owing to my lack of magical resistance. Finally, in the third fight, I think all of us failed to account for the third group of Grimleal ambushing us. So many died in that initial push, including you, that I didn't try very hard to live for long. Until we finally got everything right."

"And now here we are."

"Yes. Here we are."

This is so much to process. I don't even know where to go from here. I decide to start simple.

"So, when you die, do you wake up at the last point that you woke from?"

"Yes. Since you asked that, I'm assuming it's the same with you."

"Mmhmm. But isn't that kind of confusing?"

"It's actually very confusing. Because in all our dying experiences, we still haven't confirmed something incredibly important."

"What's that?"

"Whether or not this power works if only one of us dies before setting a new respawn point."

Oh fuck. She's right. "I sure as shit don't want to try testing it now. If a test like that were to fail…"

"One of us, or both of us, would be dead forever."

A shiver runs up my spine. "Well hell. That's distressing. I guess we'll keep that our rule, then. Neither of us is allowed to die unless the other does too."

She nods, sighing in relief, which is a little odd to me. "Rules are good. I like rules. And that's a good one."

"Okay. So how does our dual respawning work, then? Is reality set in stone every time one of us wakes up, or does it only keep track of one of us, or what?"

She sighs. "I don't know. It turns out, there's a lot we don't know about this power. And testing anything with it is borderline out of the question for the time being. One failed test, on any aspect of the power, could have catastrophic consequences."

"Right. So…" Where does a conversation like this even go once it's over? I know it's a cliche and all, but this literally changes almost everything.

"So," Robin interrupts my thoughts, "I need to make a plan." She stands up, so I do too. "We're going to be arriving in Golgotha in just a few days, after all, and it's going to be an extremely difficult fight with our limited resources."

Hang on a second. The capital of Plegia is called Golgotha? That's a little ridiculous. I know Fire Emblem in general is chock-full of biblical names, but this is on another level. I'm pretty sure Golgotha literally means 'the place of the skull' or something. Why would you name your capital that?

I shake my head to put my thoughts back in order. "So what, we're not going to react to how crazy this is?"

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, you can't pretend like this isn't affecting you!" I protest.

"There's no time for this to 'affect me,' Randall. I've got a schedule to keep," she replies.

"Literally the biggest news either of us has received since we got to Ylisse, and you want to just shrug it off?" I ask incredulously.

"I have to plan!" she snaps. "Don't you get it? I partitioned off a part of my day to get this conversation done, but now I have to get back to making sure that we're ready for this fight. It's going to be the toughest fight we've ever had; you can bet on that."

I lower my voice to try and diffuse some tension, because it's pretty apparent now that I've hit on something sensitive. "I get it. It is super important that we have a plan. But don't you think we only need a plan from someone who's, you know, doing okay in the head?" She glares at me. "Okay, that came out wrong. But this is a big deal. It is, and we kinda need to treat it like that. Trying to stifle it is how you and I get problems like dehumanizing our enemies and our friends alike. We can't afford not to be human."

"This army doesn't need me to be a human, Randall. It needs me to be a tactician."

"That might be what the army needs. But it's not what the people that make up that army need. We need to know you're okay. Or at least I do. But I bet if we asked the others, they'd feel the same way. You spend so much time in here, usually by yourself, and no one sees how stressed out you get. Not even me, except I guess for little glimpses like this. And if you need my help, you can ask for it. I mean, now that the cat's outta the bag, there's no one better, right?"

Robin looks down at the table. She's quiet for a long moment. She doesn't look up as she says, "You don't get it, Randall."

"I probably am closer to getting it than most anyone else. This power is useful, but it does weird things to us. No wonder we have trouble with humanization, right?" I say as earnestly as I can.

She still won't look at me. "I'd like to process this by myself for a while. Can you please go for a bit? We can talk later."

Well, that's a shift. Did I say something wrong? "Are you sure? If you need to talk something through, you know I'm at least a decent listener."

"I know. And thanks. But I'd really prefer to be on my own for now," she says, standing and getting out some books and rolled-up maps from the bookshelf behind her.

I guess that's it, then. "I'll, uh, see you later." I feel like we're leaving so many things unsaid here. This feels weird.

"We'll speak again in private before we reach Golgotha. I'll probably want to run my battle strategy by you," she says, looking down at her book.

"Yeah, okay. Later."

She raises a hand in farewell. I slip out of the wagon and start walking, my head feeling somewhat heavier from all the new knowledge that just got dropped on me.

It doesn't take long for Lissa to catch up to me. "Soooo, what did she want that was so secret-y?" she asks, practically bouncing beside me.

I roll my eyes. "Well obviously, it wouldn't be a secret anymore if I told you, now would it?"

"Yeah it would! It would just be a secret that I know too! Then it would be a secret shared between three people." She glances at Lon'qu. "Well, four I guess, but he barely counts."

"Ordinarily that might be true, but I'd have to be a special kind of stupid not to know what happens when you get ahold of a secret. It becomes a secret shared between just about everyone in the Shepherds within a few hours."

She looks almost guilty for a moment, but bounces back quickly. "But I mean, that's still kind of a secret, right? It's a secret to everyone that isn't in the Shepherds, right?"

I sigh. "I guess it's all a matter of perspective, huh? Still, I think I'll keep the contents of that particular meeting between myself and Robin until further notice," I reply.

She pouts. "No fun. I'll talk to you later then, party pooper. Don't forget, you're getting another Rescue lesson in before sundown. And we should start you on Physic staves too, before too long. We won't have a lot of chances for you to practice once things really heat up, so you should learn while you can."

"Gotcha. I'll find you later on," I say with a mock-salute.

She nods and wanders off, Lon'qu looking unusually sullen in tow.

Already I can feel the beginnings of a dynamic that I'm not sure I like starting to form. When I thought it was just me, I didn't mind keeping it to myself that I had this power, and I could almost pretend like it didn't exist most of the time. But the whole time I was having that conversation with Robin, it felt different. The power felt real, tangible. Like an object in the room with us, sitting on the table between us. Probably the way it should have always felt, but I think in a way I almost liked it better before. Now Robin and I will have to strategize together, which isn't bad, but we have to be careful to avoid walling ourselves off from the others too much. It's already a bad habit of hers, but I sure as hell don't want to pick it up too.

You know what? Just to make sure that I don't start doing that, I'm gonna go find a Shepherd right now and have an engaging conversation with them about something. Maybe Robin's got the right of it; it's better not to freak out about this too much. Just keep living the same way wherever we can. I decide I'm just going to cool off for the rest of the day until my staff training with Lissa.

* * *

" _You're positive that it's the Ylisseans? Not just a roving band of street rats?" I ask firmly. I wonder to myself why I haven't just vaporized this cretin already._

 _He (could it be a she? I can't place that voice at all. It almost sounds like it could be either, or both. Their voice cracks and strains to speak, as if their throat is parched nearly beyond functionality. The massive hood and loose cloak are not helping) nods. "Oh yes. Got close enough to spot that tattoo on the prince's arm way back in Ferox. Been tracking them for a while since then. Long way, long long way. But they're a spry bunch. Not a single one lost in any fight I've seen them in. All accounted for. All the little ducks quacking in the basket, safe under Mommy's wing. Even if you hate their guts, you gotta admit, it's pretty impressive. Pretty, pretty. Like you."_

" _I didn't ask for a performance review. I asked for their identification and location." I'm increasingly not fond of this person. "How did you manage to get an audience with me, anyway? I'm a very busy woman, you know."_

" _Oh, worry not, milady. I know how it is with you noble types. Busy, busy, busy. Busy here, busy there, yes yes yes." They speak unstably, meandering through their sentences without ever seeming to arrive and take a breath. "I got an audience with you because you stopped and listened. If you didn't stop, didn't listen, didn't stop, then no audience. No audience, no show. But I'm no no-show, no ma'am, I showed. And speaking of showing," they say, then gesture to their chest, cupping imaginary massive breasts. They let out a wheezing, mocking laugh. It gives me an unexpected impulse to want to cover my own with my hands, I realize with a start._

 _I can't think of anyone who's made me feel this self-conscious about the way I dress. No one, friend or foe alike, not even Master Validar, has made me feel vulnerable in these clothes, but this person… I feel exposed. Naked. I can't place why, either; they don't look like anything special. I'd be able to cut them down in a heartbeat. But I don't want to. For some reason, I can't shake the feeling that if I sliced them in half, each half would grow into its own person, each speaking and gesturing and laughing and making me feel more unsafe than I have on any battlefield in years._

 _I can't even tell if they're looking at me. That damned hooded cloak. I can't make out anything beyond that unnerving grin. But at the same time, I'm sure that they're staring at me. Taking me apart, piece by piece. I can't hide anything from this person. It makes me want to run away, but roots me to the spot at the same time._

" _Please, just… tell me where they are," I say, trying not to let my voice shake._

" _Please, oh please, she pleads, please. Such a pretty word, from such a pretty mouth." Their mouth contorts, stretching out the shape of each word as they speak it. "You'll forgive me, I hope. Don't talk much, don't have much to say, haven't had much to say, nothing to say, no one to say to. But you're kind, you forgive me, I see it on your face. A reward for you, for being so kind. Information. Make your master very happy." My blood chills in my veins. I'm terrified to ask how much they know. Or perhaps I just misheard them somehow? "Border Sands. Coming south. Killed a Grimleal priest, a priest, a holy man, now a holey man. Big hole in his holy, holey head. Gonna come save the Exalt, the exalted, exalted on high. High up in the sky, on top of a big, tall drop. Then," they whistle, tracing with their finger down through the air and imitating the sound of something massive falling from the sky, "not so exalted anymore." I'm not sure how they know the method by which we're planning on putting the Exalt to death, but for all I know, they got it from reading my own mind. That feeling of nakedness is renewed._

" _Could you just… go?" I finally ask. I don't know how to say it. I can barely speak at all._

 _The mouth pouts. "Now it's the audience that's the no-show. Well, no audience, no show, and I don't show at a show with no show, no sir. I know my way, out the door and outways. Gotta go, gotta go," they mumble, shuffling off toward the exit at the end of the hallway. I shiver._

 _They never did tell me how they got in here. An even sharper chill runs down my spine._

 _I shake my head. Got to stay calm. You've at least got the information you need, now. Put the one who gave it to you out of your mind for the time being. This is your chance to get back in Master Validar's good graces. He hasn't been the same since Ylisstol, yes, but when he learns what you've done for him, he'll be back to his old self again. Just stay focused on this. You can do it. Just focus._

"You're totally being brainwashed, and it's–"

 _No. Put it out of your mind, right now. Don't even finish that thought. Just focus._

 _I walk down the hallway to the exit myself, and when I step through the door, I shoot the guard a glare. He flinches instantly._

" _Y-yes ma'am?" he squeaks._

" _Why on earth did you let such a strange... person into the compound?" I demand._

 _He looks at a complete loss. "Wh-what person are you referring to, milady?"_

" _The one who JUST NOW left through this very doorway!" I almost shout, gesturing incredulously to the empty doorway._

" _I-I'm truly sorry, Lady Aversa, but no one except you has come through that door, in or out, all afternoon." He's positively shaking by now._

 _I think I might be too._

" _What do you MEAN there's been no one else? They were JUST HERE! I was just speaking to them!" I feel like I'm losing my mind._

" _I'm sorry, milady! Truly I am! Please don't hurt me," the guard pleads, looking as if he might cry._

 _I let out a short scream of frustration and stalk off, heading outside to cast this damned summoning spell. If this turns out to be a waste of time..._

" _Th-thank you milady!" the guard calls behind me._

 _I just want to put this all behind me._

* * *

"Vaike, I think you've taken one hit, or several, too many to the head. If I came charging downfield at you, lance pointed square at your chest, full speed ahead, you think you'd still stand a better chance, just because you're wielding an axe?" Sully asks, exasperated.

"Hey, I'm just saying, my experience doesn't lie. I have always had a much easier time handling lancers, mounted or not, than swordsmen. It's like, with lances I can control the range of the fight. Get in close so they can't use their unwieldy weapon right, and then _wham_! Take 'em out with a blow to the head, real close-up like. But swords are more versatile. There aren't a lot of spots on a sword that don't hurt you, and even those spots are usually occupied by the guy's hands. I can't just grab it like I could the shaft of a lance. The many cuts on my hands that Chrom's given me over the years are proof of that."

"Have you considered just wearing metal gauntlets?" Sully asks.

He shakes his head. "No good. I gotta be able to be real particular, real precise with my hits. I gotta feel the haft with my fingertips. Otherwise my fighting style just falls apart."

She turns to me. "Are you hearing this, Randall? This is completely ridiculous!"

"I feel like you guys have had this argument before." Not exactly what I had in mind when I started my pursuit of engaging conversation, but I'm not sure why I expected differently from these two. By now I'm only still around because I'm just barely not rude enough to just walk away from people in the middle of conversations.

Vaike chuckles. "We have it every couple weeks, I feel like. Sully's just mad that she can't best me in one-on-one combat, so she tries to argue her way out of it rather than let her actions do the talking."

She cracks her knuckles. "Is that so? Think I'm afraid of letting my actions speak for themselves?"

Vaike closes his eyes for a moment, and takes a deep breath. "This part also usually happens." His eyes snap open, and he grins confidently at her. "So, what's the wager? Loser buys dinner next time we're in town somewhere?"

"You're gonna regret that, axeslinger. You're taking me to a nice dinner, only the finest roast duck and all that other expensive crap," Sully snarls, getting into a fighting stance.

"You'll be singing a different tune when your mouth's full of sand here in a second," Vaike retorts, getting ready to fight as well.

I shift around a little uncomfortably. "So, should I go, or…?"

"No," they say together.

"We need a judge," Sully adds.

"And someone to put her back together when it's over," Vaike says.

That tears it, and Sully charges him, fists flying. The pair of them fight like something between professional MMA fighters and little scrappy kids duking it out in an alley. Punches and kicks are thrown with wild abandon, and pretty quickly blood starts flying from noses and knuckles. Around us, the Shepherds continue their march, looking as they pass but generally not breaking pace except to give them a wide enough berth. I gather this isn't a new sight to anyone.

"Healing you morons is going to be a waste of magical resources," I say to them.

Ignoring me, the fight continues. At one point after a punch to Vaike's face, Sully pulls her hand away, hissing in pain.

"Did you just bite me?" she demands.

"No. You punched me in the mouth and got cut by my teeth. That's like, the opposite of getting bitten," Vaike replies, cautiously massaging his jaw.

They both turn to me expectantly. "Well? What's the ruling?" Sully asks.

Oh yeah, I guess I'm supposed to be a judge for this. "Uh… I mean, you did punch him in the face. You get what you bargain for. It's a clean hit."

Sully grunts her disapproval, and Vaike pumps his fist. She throws another hook his way, and the fight is back on. The two of them are almost worrying me with their ferocity. I suppose it's a good way to relieve stress, though, which is why they'd be willing to come to blows over an argument they both admit they've had plenty of times before. Some people do flower fortunes. Others practice cooking for Taguel palates. And others punch each other in the face.

How am I dealing with this stress? By telling myself I've got it under control. It should be fine, right? I gave Emm that magic sheet, and hopefully if she held onto it she can break her fall if the need arises. It'd be nice if it wasn't necessary, but as I watch these two beat the stuffing out of each other, I reflect on the decisions I've made about how this whole Emm thing should go down.

The Plegians need to believe that she died, regardless of what actually happens. The only reason the war (including the Plegian occupation of Ylisstol) ends almost comically quickly in the game is because Emm's sacrifice thoroughly demoralizes the Plegian army and persuades them to abandon Gangrel. That absolutely saves lives on both sides of the conflict. For that reason, I think it's best if we let her fall and hope that she survives long enough for me to heal her.

Vaike brings a hammer fist down on the back of Sully's head. If it hadn't been sand breaking her fall, that would've broken a nose or chipped a tooth for sure.

The question is what on earth we do after that. Of course we collect her and get the hell out, but do we make her sit out the last battle? Can we pull the whole 'hey guys, guess who's back' gambit? I mean, it worked pretty well for Goku, Robocop, and Jesus, and if it's good enough for them, who am I to turn my nose up at it? But if it's received poorly by the Plegians we're supposed to be demoralizing and they think it was just an underhanded deceit, all that effort might be for nothing.

Sully nails Vaike in the gut with a knee strike so powerful I feel the wind get knocked out of my chest just looking at it.

Regardless, I think we can save Phila and the other pegasus knights by having them sit the fight out rather than go to collect Emmeryn. Maybe we'll just send someone the long way up the spire or something. But how do we convince Phila to just bail on her liege? I'll have to think about that.

That said, what's to be done with Emm after we get her out? Obviously if we're going to convince Plegia she's dead, we've gotta put her somewhere out of sight, but how will the family take that? What if she's found out? That wouldn't be good at all. On the other hand, we could–

Why are Vaike and Sully shaking me? "Aren't you guys supposed to be fighting or something?" I ask.

"Are you not hearing the trouble up ahead? Something's happening!" Vaike shouts, flekking my face with blood from the bloody nose Sully gave him. He starts pulling me along for a moment to get me to follow him to the front of the caravan.

"Vaike, at least let me heal you and Sully up. You're both beaten to shit!" I protest as I'm dragged along.

"No time! We've already been engaged by a huge force," he says, letting go of me and receiving his axe from Sully so they can enter the fray.

What the hell's going on up here? I must've been spacing out something awful to have missed this many Risen dropping out of the sky. Or wait, where's their portal? Did they walk all this way? Where did they come from? This is all kinds of weird.

I can worry about that later. Gotta see if anyone's hurt. I rush to get to the rest of the group where I can see the fighting is already well underway.

"Randy, there you are!" Maribelle calls, looking up at me as she kneels over Stahl and puts his wounded shoulder back together. "The mages have been taking a lot of punishment, so go see if you can help them. There wasn't any time for them to get behind the armored units."

"Got it," I say, looking around for any fallen mages among the chaos. It looks like we were taken completely by surprise; Shepherds and Risen intermingle without an iota of organization, leaving the fight in total pandemonium.

In other words, I have no idea how to help without taking an axe to the back.

However, it looks like that decision is about to be made for me, I realize as I spot Miriel, surrounded on all sides by a group of Risen mercs.

"Kellam? Kellam, where are you?" she calls. "This is hardly the time to regain your ability to disappear from me!" She cries in alarm as she has to dodge a vertical strike from one of the mercs, but deftly casts an Elfire attack into its back as it passes by. Still, it's three on one, and she won't be able to stay lucky for long.

While she deals with the ones on her left, she's vulnerable on her right, and I can see the merc getting ready to take a swing. Moving as quickly as I can, I make a diving jump, holding my staff up behind me to try and block the swing. By some miracle, it actually does. Unfortunately, because it was a dive in the first place, saving Miriel meant bowling her over and stopping her attack as well. Additionally, the strike knocked the staff out of my hand, and I'm not immediately sure where it fell.

"Ah, Randall," Miriel says through the sand in her mouth. "Why did you knock me over?"

"No time! Get back up!" I reply, scrambling to my feet. Where the hell is my staff? I need my– OH SHIT DODGE THAT!

Too late. I shout in pain as I'm forced to stop the sword's strike with my forearm, feeling the blade dig deeply into the flesh. Fortunately for me, the arm isn't severed completely, so I might get to keep it. You know, assuming I survive.

In the meantime, I'm screaming on the ground, clutching my half-attached arm and hoping I don't get my head lopped off. It seems my hopes are mostly for naught, though, as the Risen snarls and stabs me through the chest with its wide blade. I guess I did technically get to keep my head.

That old familiar full-body panic springs to life again, and my brain starts preparing to die. As much as I'd like to drink some of my vulnerary and maybe not die just yet, it's in a pouch hanging from my left side, and my left arm currently only theoretically exists. I can't reach over myself when I'm lying like this on the ground, so it looks like this is it for this run. What a drag.

Oh wait! Looks like someone's come to my rescue, in the form of blasting the Risen's head off its shoulders. I think I recognize that spell.

And just as expected, there's Robin, standing over me, looking distinctly panicked.

"I don't have any vulnerary to help that, but it doesn't matter. We just lost Sully and Vaike. For some reason they both went down really quickly." I'd imagine that's because I didn't have time to fix them up after their needlessly brutal beatdown. Dumbasses. "We have to go back anyway."

I gargle something unintelligible in response.

"Randall, this is important. I have to know for sure. When we get back, come find me and tell me… bear meat is the best," she says, deadly serious. "Don't ask why yet. Just do it."

I try to tell her I'm not in a state to ask any questions, but I'm also not in a state to tell her that either. I do manage a feeble thumbs-up before my vision fades to black.

* * *

I wake up. It's strange. I got so used to feeling this sense of solitude whenever I'd wake up to that old black tent flap, but today, for the first time, my mind is elsewhere. Over in Robin's tent, she must be thinking the same sort of things. The battle, what went wrong, where those Risen may have come from, what we have to look forward to on the second run of today, and more. I'm not having to piece this together alone.

I'd better go see what was so important about, of all things, bear meat. I don't bother putting on my robes, instead just staying in the grey shirt and black pants as I get out of the tent and stretch a little before setting out to find Robin. The first person I see when I leave my tent is our fair leader, walking alone through the camp.

"Hey boss," I say, holding up a hand. "Morning. Do you know where Robin is? I need to talk with her about something."

To my surprise, his expression shifts to what could only be called a scowl. "How should I know?"

I blink. "Um, did I say something to offend you or something?"

"It's fine," he says too quickly, his face returning to a more neutral expression. "I don't know where she is."

"...Alrighty then. I'll, uh, ask around elsewhere. Thanks," I say more than a little awkwardly.

He grunts and skulks off. Okay, something is definitely up there. He didn't look too happy with me when I saw him after sleeping in the command wagon the other day, but now I'm sure there's something wrong. I'll have to find out what that's about.

In the meantime, I check the command wagon to see if she's already waiting for me there, but I find it empty. Where else could she be?

As I step out of then wagon, I spot Frederick, carrying what looks like a handful of pebbles as he walks around the perimeter of the camp. Normally I don't make a point of associating with Frederick, but hopefully he'll at least point me where I need to go.

He looks me over sternly as I approach. "Randall. Up bright and early I see. What do you need?"

"Do you know where Robin is right now? It's important that I talk to her," I say.

He narrows his eyes. "What about?"

I sigh in exasperation. "Lay off the detective work for a minute. It's just about our march plans for the next couple days. She told me to find her in the morning so we can work on our strategy for when we get to… Golgotha." That's still weird to even say in this context.

"I will 'lay off the detective work' when I am sure that you are no threat to milord or the Shepherds as a whole. Not before," he replies.

You know what? Robin can wait for a minute. I've been getting pretty tired of this. "Okay, first off: you and I both know I'm no threat to Chrom. He'd flatten me nine ways from Saturday. And second, what do you need from me before I can earn your trust? Or at least a lack of active suspicion?"

He frowns. "I need the truth. I have significant doubts about your supposed origins, as well as your intentions with joining this group. There is far too much I don't know about you, and whenever clandestine dealings are afoot, it seems you're conveniently there as well. Who are you, really? And what do you want?"

I feel like I need to give him something. But there really isn't a point to trying to explain my Earth to him, at least in terms of putting his mind at ease. Maybe that's a bomb to drop after everyone gets accustomed to the idea of time and interdimensional travel when Lucina has her big reveal in a couple years. For now, though, I have to try something.

"You want the truth, Frederick? Here you go: you're right. My origin story was bullshit. I'm not from Valm. I've never been to Valm. You know where I'm from? Absolutely nowhere." Here's hoping I can sell it with a cocky attitude.

"Nowhere? That doesn't make sense."

I shrug. "Well, it'll have to. Because it's the truth."

"How can you be from nowhere?" he demands.

"By being from everywhere. I've moved around all my life, never staying in one place for long. Even I don't know where I started out." I feel a little guilty replacing a lie with another lie, but at least this one is closer to the truth.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Let's say I accepted this nonsense. And it is nonsense, make no mistake. Where did you come by that robe and staff? It's apparent you didn't earn them the normal way."

"I hate to disappoint, but I truly don't remember. I woke up one morning and I had them. Maybe I bought them. Maybe I won them in a gambling match. Maybe I got drunk one night and stole them from somewhere. I wish I knew myself." I guess I have no way to disprove that one myself, so that's arguably not a lie at all.

He stares at me. "So you admit that your origin story was a fabrication, but you hope to replace it with a pathetic excuse like that? A mix of 'I'm from nowhere' and 'I don't remember' is not going to gain my confidence in the least."

"What do you need to hear to be satisfied? If there's something you want me to tell you, I'm happy to say it."

"Who hired you?" Frederick asks. "Who put you up to this?"

I throw my hands up in exasperation. "No one! I don't even have any money outside of what you guys pay me! I don't know anyone anywhere outside of the Shepherds!"

He crosses his arms. "Well that's just silly. You've never associated with anyone before?"

"Not meaningfully! Not memorably! Just short interactions that don't add up to much," I reply. This could be going better.

"I hope it's no mystery why I'm skeptical about that. Am I to believe that before you joined the Shepherds, you were just… no one?"

I shrug. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"It certainly doesn't give you much of an alibi."

"An alibi for what? Do you think I work for the Plegians? Because I'll tell you, if I'm supposed to be supporting Plegia in any way, I must be really bad at it, considering I spend almost all my time _fighting my supposed employers_."

His frown, if possible, deepens further. "You're no fool, Randall. You know that if you wanted to infiltrate an organization, it would be almost impossible without doing something to sell the deception. I have no guarantee that you're not simply following the orders of your superiors and making necessary sacrifices to gain our confidence."

"Do you have literally _any_ evidence to back up that claim?" I ask.

"For one, how about the evening that you, Virion, and Robin went off in the dead of night to commit an act of violence against a number of Ylisseans, an act which you have thus far kept quiet about to everyone? What have you to say about that?" Frederick asks. Looks like he's finally pulling out the big gun.

"You'd have to ask Virion about the details, but the short version is that he was in a serious bind and needed support to get him through a meeting with someone he owed money to. When we got there, we were ambushed and had to kill our attackers to survive. They struck first." (That part's actually a lie, but it wasn't a lie the first time, so I'm okay with that) "So yeah, we killed a few people, but they were no better than bandits."

"I see. Then why, if you didn't intend to hurt anyone, did you bring your weapons to the meeting?"

I shrug. "Virion didn't have the money he needed, so Robin wanted to make sure we were going to walk out of that meeting alive."

"And why did none of you tell anyone in the Shepherds about what happened that night?"

"Virion told us not to. You can take that up with him. I'm not one to overtly break someone's trust like that, and apparently neither is Robin," I say firmly. "Only reason I'm telling you this now is because I have a feeling you saw it yourself. Am I right?"

He nods gravely. "You are. I also inspected the scene thoroughly the following day. The men you killed were all Ylisseans in the employ of one of our most influential lords and council members. In light of this, I expect you to choose your next words carefully; I don't take insults to the council lightly, and suggesting that one of them has had illegal dealings with Virion would very much be an insult."

Of course, it doesn't take a genius to make the connection. My hunch must have been right: Aventine was behind Virion's mishap as well as the later attempt to sell us out to Vasto's men. He must have been the one who allowed Validar and his assassins to get so close to Emmeryn unseen. Hell, maybe it was his brainchild in the first place.

Then again, the look on Frederick's face tells me I should probably not bring any of this up. He might flay me and use my limbs for weight training.

"I didn't ask who his contact was, nor did I ask who those men had worked for. I didn't need to, and didn't want to, know. I will stand by my decision to defend my friend when he was in danger, even if the violence was unintended and regrettable. I hope you've noticed I haven't made a habit of killing Ylisseans, or anyone for that matter," I say after some consideration.

He gives a sharp 'hmph' before replying. "Regardless, an act of murder on your parts, while admittedly unlikely considering the way the bodies were found suggests a battle between equal parties, has not been completely ruled out. It is because the three of you are currently indispensable to our small group that I have allowed the matter to go unaddressed for this long. That said, your version of events, if true, does clear up much of the unanswered questions I have about the incident. Not that I accept a convenient half-truth over the genuine article."

"I've never made a move against the Shepherds before, and I won't in the future. You can take my word on that," I say firmly.

He ponders my words for a few moments, staring me down. "I will have to weigh the matter further. For now, I will concede only that as a member of the Shepherds, you have so far had a track record of almost exclusively attempting to help our cause. Whether that behavior is sincere or an act masking a sinister motive, I am sure I will find out before long. I also will take into consideration that you actively sought to have this conversation, suggesting that either you are earnest in your desire to gain my trust, or you have inordinate faith in your ability to deceive me. That point too remains undecided."

He stops talking, but I have no idea what to say. "So… are we good, then? Or at least better, I guess?"

"If by 'good' you mean in a state of mutual trust, I'm afraid not. But I will concede… better." For the briefest of moments, I could swear I see the ghost of a smile. Maybe it was just an involuntary twitch. He continues, "You mentioned an important meeting with Robin, did you not? We have already spoken for a while."

Honestly, I got so excited at the idea of Frederick not totally hating me that I got distracted. "Oh, yeah, that's right. Do you know where she is?"

"I believe that unless she has moved since we started talking, she is still in her tent, asleep. It's over there." He points to a small but otherwise nondescript tent not terribly far from my black one.

"I'll catch up with you later. This is gonna be the start of a beautiful friendship, Freddie," I say with a smile, clapping him on the arm as I turn to head off.

"Regardless of our level of familiarity, _do not_ call me 'Freddie,' Randall," Frederick warns as I walk away.

I poke my head into the tent Frederick indicated, and sure enough, the tactician is snoozing away on her bedroll. I never took her for the type to sleep in, though I guess compared to when my dreams usually wake me up these days, most everyone is a late riser.

I enter cautiously, careful not to hit my head on the low canvas ceiling. I gently shake her knee.

"Robin. Hey, Robin, wake up," I say. No response. "Hey, come on, you told me to come find you. Wake up!" I shuffle forward and start shaking her shoulder. "Robin. Wake. Up." I then remember a little trick from her supports with Lissa. I grab her nose and hold it for a moment, waiting for a response.

Not long later, she lets out a strange _snrck_ sound, and suddenly her eyes snap open.

"Randall!"

Awake and moving in an instant, she sits up and promptly clacks our foreheads together with a resounding _thonk_. My vision fills with stars and I reel back, falling on my ass. Both of us sit for a moment, rubbing our heads.

"Oww. Sorry about that, Randall," she says sleepily.

"Sonuvabitch," I mumble. "Good morning to you too."

She shakes her head a bit, then adjusts herself to a normal sitting position. "So, you're here. Do you remember what I told you?"

"Okay, I meant to protest that before, but I was a little impeded by the hole in my chest. I will admit, bear meat is surprisingly good, but it's far from the best. I don't know if I can in good conscience lie about something like that," I say. "As you ought to know by now, a roast cooked by Stahl is the true top of the food hierarchy, and he's never cooked bear before as far as I'm aware. So I must differ with you."

She rolls her eyes. "Anyway, good, you remembered."

"Yeah, what was that about, anyway? That was probably the weirdest thing you've ever told me to do."

"That was the point. It was meant to be something completely unexpected and unprompted; that way, when you came back and reported the same thing to me, I would know for sure that you're remembering everything that happens in each run." It's amazing: even in her jammies and with her eyes half-lidded with sleep, she still just exudes this air of professionalism, like she's ready to command the army even like this. Still, a thought occurs.

"Hang on a second. So this was a test? Did you not believe me or something, even after everything we discussed yesterday? Or, you know, today?"

She holds up her hands. "It's not that I didn't believe you, per se. It's more that I didn't believe myself when I heard it, if that makes sense."

"Not even a little bit."

She sighs. "It's like this. I'm always trying to make sense of things. I like having rules, and figuring out how things work and how people work. I keep rosters and lists and charts, and they make me feel more secure. I thought I understood how my power works, and I thought I was secure in the things I had learned about it. But there was always this nagging doubt, and it was you. You were an outlier, hard to pin down like the others. I could never tell what you knew, or sometimes how you knew the things you did. And when you told me in the last run that you share this power, it was a fundamental shift. The things I thought I knew weren't true after all, and now I have to adjust. It's… a little tough, I guess."

"That makes sense. I don't think it's really hit me either. But it's not bad, is it?" I ask.

She shrugs. "I don't know yet. There's so much I don't know, even about myself. _Especially_ about myself. I can't remember anything before a few months ago, who I was, what I was doing, what I used to care about. I wanted a solid foundation, but there's so much I have no clue about. It's… a little scary, I can't lie."

I never realized how much Robin and I have in common in that regard. We both started essentially from scratch in an unfamiliar world, with no friends or family to call our own. All either of us has keeping us grounded is the Shepherds, really. Outside of that, we're a couple of nobodies in this world. So far, anyway, but I'm not gonna be the one to spill the beans on Robin's true identity just yet.

"Well, you've got us. The Shepherds, I mean. They've taken us in, given us a home and a purpose. Sure, we don't have all the answers yet, but when we slip up, we can still rely on the others to keep us and each other safe. And they in turn count on us. And, if all else fails, you can count on me. Like I was trying to say before, you and I are gonna have to be there for each other when the battle gets tough. I'm not the most reliable person in an actual fight, but you know I do my best for this team, and I know the same about you. So don't worry about having to lean on me for support if you have to, okay? No one's an island. You ge–oomph!"

I'm interrupted by Robin throwing her arms around me and squeezing for dear life.

"Uh, Robin? You alright?" I ask, but nonetheless return the hug anyway. Seems like the right thing to do, and hugs are nice I suppose.

"I'm sorry," she says, muffled by my shoulder. "I had to be absolutely sure. It's not that I didn't believe you, but I just… Now I know for absolutely sure."

I understand. It's a little tough for me to believe it too, even now. "Don't worry. I getcha," I say, smiling despite myself. It's not much, but at least now she's stopped pretending to be an unfeeling stone about this.

She mumbles something, but the fact that her face is buried in my shoulder and her already low volume make it inaudible.

"What?"

She lifts her head a little. "It's been difficult. Managing this tiny army against forces so much larger and more intimidating that ours. Keeping everyone safe. It's a weight I've been carrying all this time. It's been heavy, and I thought all this time that I was carrying it alone."

"I thought the same thing," I reply.

"And I kept thinking that there was no way anyone could ever understand. That if I told anyone, they'd either say I was crazy or never see me as a human again." She's speaking quickly, breathing shallowly, as if in a race to finish her thought. "How could I ever be one of the Shepherds with this huge, irreconcilable difference between me and everyone else?" Her voice cracks with that last question, and I realize she must have gotten choked up. She fights to keep it under control as she says, "How could I ever fit in with anyone, living entire days that would be forgotten and having experiences that only I would ever remember? How could I afford to get close to them when I have to command them? When I might have to order them to their deaths someday? I felt so isolated, even among a team like this." A couple sobs sneak through, but she's generally keeping a lid on it.

"Hey, hey, it's fine, don't worry about it. You're okay," I try to reassure her.

"How do you do it? Staying such an integral part of the group even with this barrier between us and them?" Robin asks.

"I think you might just be looking at it the wrong way. This power shouldn't separate us from the others. It gives us the ability to save them all, no matter what goes wrong. We have a chance to get to know Donnel, or Ricken, or Chrom, or Maribelle, _because_ we have the power to save them. You're doing all the work of saving them, and reaping none of the reward. Does that make sense?"

Robin is quiet for a moment. "I… guess you have a point."

I smile, even though she isn't in a position to see it. "In my so far twelve lifetimes, I've gotten pretty difficult to beat in an argument, I'll have you know."

She snorts. It's a good sign. Soon the shaking stops as she regains control. She takes some deep breaths. After a moment, she lets go of me and sits back, stretching her legs out in front of her.

Finally, she speaks again. "Sorry about that," she says, her voice a little unsteady still. She smiles a guilty smile.

I wave a hand. "No, no. I'm pretty positive you needed that."

"Maybe you're right. Though I'll say, I guess it's not surprising that you're the one to drag all that stress and stuff out of me, Randall," Robin says.

"Whatcha mean?"

She idly taps her feet together as she answers, "Well, now that I'm remembering it, it's usually been you that forces me to come out of my shell sometimes. I know I have a habit of being something of an isolationist, but when it gets really bad it seems like it's always you and your antics that remind me to actually, you know, interact with others. Like that night you and Maribelle taught us music, or hell, even when you came into my room at the barracks in Ylisstol to make me come down for dinner. Just little things like that, but they've always helped. Thank you for that. Out of everyone that could be sharing this power with me, I'm… not wholly displeased it's you."

I can't hide the smile growing on my face. "I guess I could think of a couple worse people than you to share it with."

"Share what?" I hear from the entrance to the tent, startling the hell out of both of us. I whirl my head around and see Chrom standing outside, holding the tent flap open.

"O-oh! Uh, nothing, nothing in particular," I stammer.

"That doesn't look like nothing," Chrom says harshly.

"What do you mean?"

"The pair of you, alone in her tent, apparently having just had a tender moment. Sitting awfully close to each other. And this after finding you just the other day crawling out from under the table at her feet, Randall. Something's up here," Chrom says.

What on earth is his problem? He told me he wasn't into Robin at all, so even if he thinks I'm putting the moves on her, I don't see what his beef is. "Okay, first off, no there's not. And second, I fail to see why it matters one way or another."

"It matters because it's just more proof that you never really cared about Maribelle in the first place," he replies. "It was odd enough how fine a mood you were in so soon after breaking things off, but to compound that with moving on to another woman that fast? How could you be so callous?"

Oh. Oh wait. I think I get it now. He's white-knighting for her. That's actually a little adorable, though unbearably cringey.

It also pisses me off, if I'm being honest.

I stand up, which in Robin's tent means I have to kind of hunch over, thereby diminishing the impact quite a bit. "Okay, let's clear some things up. First off, I haven't been in a 'fine mood' lately, I just don't want to drag others into my problems. Acting. Second, I repeat, there's nothing like that going on between me and Robin, so cool it. And third, and most importantly, don't you _dare_ suggest I don't care about Maribelle. I know for a fact I'd rather put a sword through my chest than see her come to harm." Robin coughs behind me. "So you can drop that notion where you stand."

"How could you say you care about her when you broke her heart in the first place?" Chrom demands.

Robin clears her throat. "Maybe you two should have this discussion elsewhere. You're going to start drawing unwanted attention if you keep this up."

Chrom scowls. "Fine. Let's go, then."

"Are we really doing this?" I ask helplessly.

"Yes." He waits for me to get up and follow him. Though none too pleased about it, I suppose I should get this over with too. I've thought for a while now that he must be pissed at me, so it's better to lay it all out, right?

We get a good distance away from the camp. Recalling the apparently roving mob of Risen that ambushed us last run, I find myself wondering if I should be keeping an eye out for them even now.

Chrom whirls on me. "What were you thinking? How could you hurt her like that if you cared about her?"

"Man, I don't know what you think happened, but you need to understand, I broke things off for her sake as much as mine. More than mine, maybe. Regardless of how I felt about her, she wasn't in love with me, just fixated on keeping constant watch on me. That wasn't a dynamic that was built to last, so I cut things off early rather than letting things fester," I explain.

"You know what I think? I think you didn't love her at all, but you convinced her that it was _her_ that didn't love _you_ so that it wouldn't be your fault that the relationship fell apart. You made her blame herself for it, just so you could feel good about it after the fact," he says, crossing his arms.

"What the hell do you know? I did love her, and still do. And in any case, what business is it of yours who broke up with whom and for what reason?" I shoot back.

"I know that she's still awake most nights, crying herself to sleep, and then she's miserable and tired during the day. While you've been as chipper as ever, gallivanting around with the others and having fun times drinking in bars, she's been more isolated than ever. Despite that she's been a Shepherd for years, it seems the group has decided to side with you on this issue and have been leaving her all but alone, save for Lissa."

I wince. I didn't know that, or hadn't taken the care and time to notice. I know she's a generally abrasive person, so it's not unlikely that a lot of the folks in question weren't exactly dying to spend time with her anyway, but that still must hurt. That said, I have reason to believe that I'm not the thing she's crying about at night. If my own nightly specters are anything to go by, I think she's haunted by a different matter entirely.

"And I can see from your face that you didn't even take note of it. You've washed your hands of her, it seems."

"Well, there's certainly some truth to that. After a breakup, it's hard to spend time with your ex for a while. We will be fine eventually, but for a little bit it's going to be uncomfortable pretty much no matter what. But I don't like your implication that I don't care what happens to her. Outside of whatever romantic feelings I have for her, she's also my friend, and I don't want to see her sad or excluded. But what do you want me to do about it?" I ask.

He opens his mouth, then shuts it after a moment. "I…"

I knew I smelled projection in the air. "You know what? I think you might not actually be that mad at me, Chrom. You know I care for her, so you can drop that act. And you don't really have anything in mind that you want from me. You're mad, no doubt about that, but am I the person you're mad at?"

"What are you going on about?" he snaps.

"I think you're mad at you. I don't know why exactly, but there's a few reasons that come to mind. Maybe it's that your rash nature led to striking the blow that started the war in earnest. Maybe it's that Exalt Emmeryn left and got captured and you feel responsible. Maybe it's that you're not even able to help Maribelle deal with a breakup. But it's possible that's what you should address before you come at me about what you think I did wrong." The change in his facial expression is an immediate signal that I crossed a line or two. Oops.

His fists tighten visibly. "Randall, I'd watch your mouth if I were you."

"Why? What are you gonna do? Punch me?" I say with entirely too much smugness.

"I'm seriously considering it," he growls, cracking his knuckles.

This all reminds me of another fight I saw recently. Of course, it was needlessly violent, but Sully and Vaike both seemed like they were looking for an excuse to have that fight. I think they've figured out that when they get stressed about something like, for example, the battle at the Plegian capital getting closer by the day, they can vent that stress through letting loose in a fistfight with each other. I wonder if our temperamental captain might need something similar. I don't doubt he's got more problems than almost anyone to worry about lately, with the exception of probably Robin and maaaaybe me. It seems that just like how Robin had been bottling up all that worry and tension, Chrom might have been doing the same.

And since he's already got at least a tangential reason to be mad at me, maybe what he needs from me is to be that outlet for his stress.

I get into what I imagine is a boxer stance. "Just try it."

An alarming grin flashes across his face. "With pleasure."

Hey, uh, Randy?

Yeah, what's up Randy?

Not much, but, uh, what are you doing?

Provoking Chrom into fighting me.

Okay, just checking, that's what I thought. Quick question, though. Why?

Don't you remember? The whole Vaike and Sully thing. We just talked about it. Thought about it. You get it.

No, I heard that part, and that makes sense. But why us? Don't you remember what you told Frederick earlier? Chrom could absolutely push our shit in.

Yeah, that's true… But don't you think he needs this?

I guess…

Plus, we just said some pretty harsh stuff there. Prodded a few sore spots. Maybe we deserve to get kicked around a little.

If that's the way you wanna rationalize it. But I think we're gonna regret this.

Only one way to find out.

I step forward and attempt to take a jab at his face. He swats it aside easily and returns with a jab of his own, striking me squarely in the nose. Instantly my eyes water and I reel back. Immediate regret.

But with the pain comes anger, and the anger just barely wins out, so I try throwing another punch. Another redirect, another counter, but this time I stay close and try again. He grabs my hand, twisting my wrist and forcing me to turn my back and let him pin my arm behind my back. I can feel him briefly considering just dislocating my shoulder, but he instead opts to let go and kick me in the back instead, sending me stumbling to the ground.

More sand in my face. Great. That's what I needed. It gets me just riled up enough that my old high school lineman instincts take over, and I spring to my feet and make a low dive for the tackle. Though he tries to sidestep, I just barely catch him and wrap up his legs, making him lose his sure footing in the sand and fall to his back.

In football, that's where the play ends, but there's no one here to blow the whistle. I sit atop his abdomen and rain down a few blows on his face before he recuperates, grabs my wrist, pulls it across my torso, and punches the vulnerable side of my head. I'm sent toppling over, and now I'm the one getting pummeled on the ground. And unlike Chrom, I don't have any slick moves to get him off me, so I just have to take the hits.

"You _think_ you're so _smart_!" Chrom shouts, punctuating words occasionally with blows to the definitely broken nose or the soon to be broken jaw. "You've got _everyone_ figured out, _don't_ you? Well I think _you're_ the one who doesn't _know_ anything!" My jawbone breaks free and my mouth hangs limply open after that last blow. "You never know when to _shut_ your damn _mouth_!" I'm sure I look like a modern art masterpiece by now. I'm so lightheaded I can barely register what he's saying at this point.

Mercifully deciding to stop punching for now, he grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls my face close to his. "You speak so casually about things you know precious little about. You act as if nothing matters, as if a positive conclusion is already decided, while the rest of us worry for our loved ones, our families, our country. Just because you don't have those things, it doesn't mean you can go around making a mockery of the struggles that we endure. That I endure. Got that?"

I can't respond, since my jaw doesn't work. I can't nod, since he's holding my head up. I can't even really blink because my eyes are already swelling close to shut anyway. I manage a guttural grunt.

"And yes, in case you're wondering, I do worry about all those things. I can't protect everyone; hell, I can't seem to even protect my sisters. Assigning Lon'qu to be Lissa's bodyguard was an admission of defeat on my part. I had to accept that I'm not able to do anything to keep either of my sisters safe. And I am worried that my short sightedness started this war in earnest. That I'm the living embodiment of everything Ylisse did wrong in the last war with Plegia, and that every death that this war has wrought is on my shoulders. You couldn't possibly understand how that feels."

At this point, I'm just happy he's stopped hitting me. But he's wrong. I know all about how it feels to believe you're responsible for another's death. I get regular reminders almost every night, in fact. Not that I can actually say any of this to him at the moment.

"What the _devil_ is going on out here?"

It seems we've been found out, and by the duchess herself, no less. I don't think I've ever seen Maribelle look this angry before. Or maybe my vision's just distorted a little by my swollen eyelids.

"M-Maribelle! What are you doing out here?" Chrom stammers as she pushes him back and pulls out her Balmwood staff.

"Investigating the source of the yelling you were just doing. But it turns out yelling was the absolute least of your offenses, milord," she seethes as she holds the staff over me. "This will hurt, Randy."

She's no liar. Most of the damage to me was done to my face, but good lord was there a lot to undo. My eyes unswell, my nose slowly reorients itself, and my cracked cheekbones reform.

The last thing to be fixed is my jawbone snapping back into one piece and back into place. "OooooOOW, sonofabitch." I take a slow, deep breath through my once again working nose. "Thanks Maribelle."

"Don't thank me yet. What on earth was this about?" She whirls on Chrom. "Don't you dare tell me you were fighting about me."

He looks like a deer in headlights, the poor bastard. "I, uh… not entirely?" Come on buddy, you can do better than that.

She growl-shrieks in frustration. "I don't _need_ you to defend my honor by beating the living daylights out of my ex-boyfriend, milord. And you," she turns back to me, "I don't need you taking beatings as penance for what transpired between us, either."

"Trust me, I did my best to fight back," I assure her, but it doesn't seem to help much.

"This is _not_ what the Shepherds need right now," she snaps back.

I look at Chrom, his face red with a mix of anger and now shame, but also almost glowing with something… else. He breathes a little more evenly, and he seems to be standing a little taller. "You know, I might have to disagree with you there, Mari. I think this was exactly what Chrom might have needed. Am I wrong, cap'n?" I ask earnestly. "Feel any better about everything?"

He blinks in shock at the question. "I… You know, I kind of do. Not everything, mind you, but definitely some of it. Was… was that your goal?"

I shrug. "A bonus. Anyway, I'm sure it's widely known that I never know when to stop talking, so it was a good lesson for me as well. Not that I'll probably take anything away from it after this."

"So… you're not mad?" Chrom asks, both he and Maribelle looking a little dumbfounded.

"Shit, nah. I said some bad stuff in the heat of the moment, and while I could pass that off as deliberately provoking you, it still wasn't cool. Plus, I probably have one of the most punchable faces in the army, so it was bound to happen someday. Anyway," I shift into serious mode, "I hope you know I didn't really mean it. Everyone in the Shepherds knows you have a lot riding on your shoulders right now, and no one thinks you've been leading us astray. I would have killed any Plegian that threatened my sister, same as you. You're not at fault for any of this, and you've always made the best choice possible in the moments where it counts. Sometimes with some… encouragement from the peanut gallery, but the point stands. You're doing just fine in my estimation, whatever that's worth. I have no worries about following you."

"Randall," Chrom begins, but doesn't seem to have anything else to say.

After a moment, Maribelle turns on him again. "Even so, that doesn't excuse beating the man's face into a purple and red mess! Dare I even look at your hands to see what damage you did to them?"

I decide that's my cue. "I'm gonna head back to camp and continue my," I clear my throat to emphasize, " _completely platonic discussion_ with Robin. See you cats later."

They're both too focused on Chrom's mutilated meat paws to notice me going back.

* * *

"So you didn't think even once to come help me?" I ask incredulously.

I found Robin in the command wagon after I noticed her tent was already stowed away, so I assumed she must have gotten right back to the war table. I was right.

"It wasn't my fight," she says with a shrug. "Plus, you came back just fine, right?"

"You should've seen me before Maribelle put me back together. You'd be singing a very different tune," I deadpan. Wasn't that Vaike's line before? I remember that I should make sure those two don't bloody themselves up too much before the Risen arrive. "And in any case, it was at least kind of your fight. It started with Chrom assuming we were on some romantic excursion in your tent, remember? The only thing you did in that whole exchange was tell us to take it somewhere else! You could've at least _tried_ to help me convince Chrom that there was nothing untoward going on."

She lightly blushes. "I mean, when you consider how it must have looked, can you really blame him for thinking that?"

"No, which is why you should've helped me clarify the misunderstanding!" I retort.

"Fine. I'm sorry I didn't help, and I'm sorry you apparently can't handle yourself in a fist fight. Happy?" she asks.

"Tch. Bitch," I mutter.

"Did you say something?"

"Itch. There's an itch in my nose still, from where Chrom smashed it," I say, scratching the inside to try and sell it.

"Mmhmm. Anyway," she says, getting to her feet, "we need to start planning out our battle strategy before it gets too late. I anticipate those Risen making another appearance today."

"Is it 'we' now?" I ask with a smug smirk.

"Yes," she answers flatly. "No more idling the day away in the medical wagon gossiping with Lissa or whatever it is you do. If we're going to share this power, we need to share this role too."

"So what, we're each half a tactician now?" I ask, standing up to join her at the table.

"Eh, more like 60-40," she replies. We're silent for a moment. "Maybe 70-30. We'll revisit that later. Anyway, come here."

I sigh. "Yes, Mom." She glares at me. "Ma'am! I said ma'am!"

* * *

As we've positioned people in the caravan, we tried to make it inconspicuous that all the armored heavies are near the front and all the soft 'n squishies are near the back. That includes me, a fact that I'm still not super comfortable with, but what can ya do?

Eventually, Maribelle draws up beside me astride Fleur-de-lis. "Randy, I did want to make sure you're alright after the incident this morning. I know you don't like me worrying and all, but surely I'm allowed to worry when our captain and acting Exalt beats you senseless like that."

I laugh despite myself. "Yeah, I'd say you're allowed to check in after something like that. But I'm fine, honestly. No half-truths, no double meanings. I'm good. I've been long due for someone to remind me there are consequences to the things I say, and he was in need of a way to vent this bottled up stress of his. Beating the shit out of his subordinates is certainly not an optimal method, and we can discuss some alternatives down the line, but for now, I'm fine with that."

"Of course, he's mortified himself at what happened. He admits that his temper got the better of him, and he's worried that the others might lose confidence in him as a leader if they know what happened. He's asked me to keep the incident a secret as much as possible, and he'd like for you to do the same." She looks a little embarrassed to even bring this up.

"I wouldn't even call it keeping a secret. It's between him, me, and I guess you and Robin. No one else needs to be let in on this particular drama, no matter how much the Shepherds might soak that shit up like a sponge," I reply.

She sighs in relief. "I'm glad you feel the same way. Despite how angry I was, and frankly still am, at the pair of you, I don't like airing my dirty laundry in the public eye."

"And hey, while we're on the subject. I know that things have been rough on you lately, and I know that I've been kinda ghosting you. I'm sorry for that. I hope you understand why I thought that might be best," I say. Now it's my turn to sound a little ashamed.

"I will admit, it has been hard. But it gets a little easier every day. And I know that if it ever truly got to be too much for me, I have a group of loving friends, you included, that will be there for me," she says kindly.

"I'm glad to hear it."

Maybe things actually turned out alright for once. I walk with an extra spring in my step for a while. Then I remember we're gonna get attacked by Risen in a little while. That dampens my mood a bit.

* * *

Actually, even the Risen fight is going a lot better this time around. As per Robin's and my plan, Sumia and Cordelia were sent up to scout out the area ahead and keep an eye out for the enemy. Naturally, in the absence of Risen portals, we told them it was to keep an eye out for Plegian soldiers, but it's all the same in practice. Sure enough, in mid-afternoon they touched back down to tell us that a large group of Risen had materialized seemingly from nowhere, already close to our location. That confirmed my suspicion that someone had been waiting for us. And when I consider it further, the only people I can remember actively summoning Risen are the highest ranking members of the Grimleal, particularly Aversa and Validar. One of them must have been made privy to our location.

I suspect that this traveler might be at fault once again. Whoever they are, it seems like they lie at the core of every major deviation from the canon story so far. I can't wait to meet them, so I can knock their teeth loose.

Still, we were three steps ahead, and by the time the Risen arrived, we were already in formation and waiting for them. As a result, their comparatively unorganized blitz on us isn't doing much for them. The only real issue we run into, as usual, is the disparity in numbers; a whole lot of Risen were summoned to greet us, and it seems like they just keep coming.

As a result, everyone who can use a staff is being kept quite busy maintaining the rest of the fighters, especially the front line, who are quickly tiring out in the midst of this onslaught.

The most notable difference in our formation is the new centerpiece of the front line: Nowi. Physically speaking, she's an absolute brick wall, and we have yet to see her so much as stagger against the attacks of the Risen. Though I might be overstating it a bit, as most of the Risen, despite being mindless killing machines, still seem to possess just enough self-preservation instinct to avoid her if possible.

Perhaps as a show of sincerity about wanting to put our earlier fight behind us, Chrom now fights in front of me, holding off the attacks of the Risen fighters while I keep him put together. As we seemingly always have, we work well together, and it does a lot to cast this morning's conflict in a comparatively insignificant light.

Though it takes almost the rest of the day, we do eventually wear through the entire mob, winning us the day at last. As the last Risen dissolves, a collective sigh of relief spills out of everyone. Vulneraries are shared, weapons are inspected, and sand is shaken out of clothing and hair.

I hate the desert.

* * *

"So you gave her a toy?"

"It's not a toy, it's magic. And magic isn't a toy, or so I'm told. But yes, if she still has it, then that's what might be her saving grace if things go awry."

Robin shrugs. "Good to know, I guess. The more variables we have accounted for, the better. But ideally, no one's getting thrown off any execution spires in the first place, let alone needing a way to survive that fall."

I'm gonna have to disagree with you there, Robin. It's better if she falls and takes the steam out of this war machine, but since you haven't seen her big dramatic speech yet, or even know that Gangrel plans to cut a deal for the Fire Emblem, I'm holding back that information for now.

"Fair enough. Though today gives me pause. If Risen don't need a portal to appear after all, there's a chance they might be employed on the battlefield if we aren't wary," is what I actually say.

"That's true as well. Good thinking. In that case, we should probably modify our plan to have Phila and the other pegasus royal guards no longer collect the Exalt while the battle is ongoing. If enemies were to suddenly spawn from nowhere, I doubt they'd be able to handle them in their weakened state after all this time in captivity," Robin says thoughtfully, rubbing her chin as she pores over a few charts spread across the table.

Thank God she thinks it's her idea to keep them out of the fight. Now I don't have to look suspicious trying to convince her of that.

"Alright, then we'll have a more carefully planned approach. We should make sure the enemy is taken care of before anyone goes to get her," I say.

"It could make her a vulnerable target, though, even in the middle of a fight," Robin replies.

"That's ideally what the wind magic sheet is for. If she needs to make a quick getaway, she could try jumping for it."

"That sounds like the last resort to end all last resorts, but I guess it will have to do. We need to make sure we're resting a lot in the next couple days. We will arrive at Golgotha within that time, barring any more delays."

I take a deep breath. "You ready for this?"

She lets out a tired sigh. "It doesn't matter. The deadline is coming whether we're ready or not. And even that's assuming this isn't all a massive trap, and they just don't bother sending her up the execution spire at all. We have to be prepared for anything, or at the very least, prepared to die."

That sounds so weird said out loud.

"Yeah, you're right."

The door to the wagon swings open, and in walks Chrom, looking quite hot and miserable in that thick cloak of his. "How are we looking, Robin?" he asks.

"About as good as we can hope for. We've controlled for the maximum possible number of variables, and that's all we can do. All that remains is to put the plan in action. But the absolute most important thing is going to be for everyone to follow our orders that day. Make sure to tell everyone to stay flexible and be ready to adapt. Anything could happen at Castle Plegia," she says, looking nice and dramatic standing over the war table like that.

"Will do." He turns to me. "Randall, do you have experience as a tactician now or something? I've never really seen you in the command wagon before this journey to Golgotha, but now it seems like you're here quite frequently."

I shrug. "I'm learning. She likes getting second opinions on her plans, and the word is that you're loathe to make a plan for dinner, let alone a plan for a grand rescue."

He frowns. "You know what? You're right. No wonder I've been feeling so powerless; I've neglected to even play a part in making the plan to save my sister. Make room for me. I want to help however I can," he says, striding forcefully to the table and starting to pull open a random chart.

Robin blanches. "Wait, not that one!"

She snatches it out of his grasp before he can get a good look at it, though as she rolls it up I could swear I see a little heart in the corner. Hmm…

For his part, Chrom is taken aback and asks incredulously, "What's the big deal? Surely there's nothing so sensitive that your own leader can't take a look at it."

She replies sternly, "If anyone sees that chart prematurely, it could jeopardize the integrity of the data held within. It's for my eyes only."

Before Chrom can reply, the door swings open again, this time with Frederick poking his head inside. "Milord, you should come outside. We've gotten our first glimpse of the city itself."

The chart forgotten for now, Robin and I follow Chrom outside, and sure enough, deep in the heat-hazy distance, I can just make out the top of the bones of the great dragon. In no time at all, there will be an Exalt precariously perched on one of those for us to rescue.

I swallow. Robin's sentiment that we should be 'at the very least, prepared to die' comes to mind again as the place of the skull gets closer and closer with every step.

* * *

 **A/N: Hi there! Didja miss me? I know I missed you guys. Sorry I had to be gone for a while, but there's a few reasons for that. This summer I've been working two jobs on top of preparing for my law school admission test, so I've been crazy busy lately. Apart from that, I really wanted to make sure I got this chapter right. I hope I gave a satisfying amount of clarity to a lot of details that have been left cloudy so far. Moreover, I wanted to avoid the conversation becoming essentially a big exposition dump, but to an extent that simply couldn't be avoided, so I hope you didn't find it too tedious. It had been bubbling under the surface for long enough that a lengthy and verbose explanation became necessary.**

 **Next, a big thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and a bonus thank you to everyone for your patience after I left you on one of the meanest cliffhangers I've ever pulled. And here is your out of context Syntaxis quote of the week: "My dad says that all the time haha. My favorite was when he said it after we saw an actual bear."**

 **As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**

 **Oh shoot! I almost forgot to mention! The day after the last chapter went up, BaRD officially turned a year old! Holy hell, what is everyone still doing here? Seriously, a huge thank you to everyone who's joined me for this messy ride! Love you all~**


	23. Ch 23: This Chapter Contains Zero Jokes

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 23: This Chapter Contains Zero Jokes**

"And you really think I'm ready?" I ask. This didn't go so well last time I tried using one of these. There's about half a Plegian wyvern captain at the bottom of Breakneck Pass that can attest to that.

Lissa sighs in exasperation. "For like the third time, Randy, yes. You've been practicing plenty, and I trust you now to only use it if you really know it's both safe and necessary." She hands over the staff.

I grip the Rescue staff tentatively. "Alright, if you say so."

She puts on her trademark grin, though I notice it's got a harder edge today than normal. "I do say so. You'll be fine, I promise. As always, best case scenario is we don't even need it in the first place. But it's better to have it and never need it than to need it and not have it, right?"

"That's fair." I do my best to match her smile. I should be excited about her confidence in me, but I can't shake this nagging feeling that's been digging at me since the battle with the Grimleal. Looking back on it, I didn't feel totally in control then. I let my desire for revenge on the guy that had killed me take over, and in the moment I killed him, I had a distinct feeling of _enjoying_ it. That was a first. It's not like there wasn't a decent reason to feel satisfied with that particular kill, but it's definitely a step up from just feeling numb like I usually do when I have to take someone down.

It's not the end of the world or anything, but it was a wake-up call that these magical forces are beyond my firm understanding and shouldn't be played around with lightly. So even though I agree that I'm probably ready to use Rescue by now, I find I'm kind of holding it at arm's length.

"We'll do it. We can save her," Lissa interrupts my thoughts. When I turn to face her, I see her smile has faded, replaced by a hard-set brow and thin frown. She stares at me, as if daring me to contradict her. It's encouraging to see that unlike last time we spoke about this, she's not asking it like a question, but declaring it like a statement of fact.

Even so, I don't want her stressing herself out too much before the fight. I redouble my effort to keep the smile up. "Of course we can. We haven't come all this way just to fail now."

Despite my smile, her expression stays stern. Maybe I could have worded that a little better. I decide I'll give her some space for a while.

I pat her on the shoulder as I hop out of the medical supply wagon. "I'm gonna get some air for a bit. I'll see you later, Lissa."

"Yeah. Later."

* * *

"So… how _are_ we going to get her down from there if not via Phila?" Robin asks.

It's not a bad question for her to ask, since she doesn't know the answer I'd actually go with, which is 'don't send anybody, just let her hop.' But I can't very well suggest that one just yet. She needs to know that there's a lot to gain by letting her fall, but as far as I can tell, the only way to do that is to have Robin hear the speech herself. How could I convincingly just predict out of nowhere that Emmeryn will give a war-ending speech off the cuff in the moment?

I'm aware, of course, that this means I am necessarily planning on most likely at least two runs of this. Unless we get an early Christmas miracle and she manages to jump, live, and we also don't lose any other fighters in the process of trying to save her, it can't be done in one run. This in turn means I need an absolutely ironclad plan to die. I've still got my Feroxi knife in my belt, so the method is secure, but now I need to make sure all the pieces fall into place for both of us to die without much difficulty. That means no healers near either of us to patch us up. As a result, the formation I worked out with her places both of us far from any other healers in the Shepherds, as well as anyone with an elixir or even a concoction-level vulnerary.

This also means that literally one day after promising that we'd be open with each other, I'm already having to lie to her to make sure my plans go my way. Just like I lie to Frederick, and Chrom, and Lissa, and everyone else. I have one of those brief moments of clarity where you see yourself for just a moment from the outside, and there's a flash of objectivity. And in that moment, I see that I am objectively the biggest liar in the Shepherds, and likely the world entire. Who else lies so fundamentally about who they are that their own planet of origin is kept secret?

Well, maybe Lucina. That's a start.

Still, while the lying about the origin story feels not great but largely justified, and keeping the respawning power under wraps even more so, keeping Robin in the dark on this feels worse. It felt for a while there like I might finally be able to be open with someone, but I had forgotten how much I still can't be truthful about. I can't tell her that I know the events of the game yet to come, because that would involve telling her that I know her and everyone else in this world as video game characters. I want her to be able to trust me, but it's possible I'm not really worth trusting. I lie at every turn, even to those I'd like to think are closest to me.

"Randall? Any ideas?" She's leaning over the table expectantly, and when I fail to respond quickly enough she flicks my forehead.

I growl in irritation. "How should I know? You tell me, tactician."

"We share that job now, remember? I think we settled on a nice 33-67 split, so that means you need to pull your weight too," she reminds me.

Even if it won't really happen when my own plans take form, I guess I still need to give her something for now. However, whatever I give her has to be sure to fail so that Emmeryn is pushed into giving that speech and making her big sacrificial moment. But what could be considered a guaranteed failure while also looking good enough for Robin? We really just need to hold up until Aversa places Risen archers with Emm in their sights, and then we should be good. But in order to force that to happen, it must appear that we are about to save her. And unless there's a handy staircase up the side of the execution spire, there's only one option: someone's got to fly up there.

"I don't see there being any way to get up the spire from the ground. I can't imagine they won't have that door locked tight," I say. "Even without Phila, we may still want to use an airborne approach. Either that or have Gaius escorted to the spire, but that may be a much harder sell. And there's always the possibility it doesn't have a door at all, and we'd need a flier no matter what."

It seems like Robin is thinking something similar. She replies, "When the fighting begins to wane and victory is in sight, we could send either Cordelia or Sumia up there. They're deft fliers, and they won't be suffering from the same fatigue that Phila and the others will be, so even if something unexpected comes up, they should be able to avoid it, right?"

I don't like this plan, even if I know it's a decoy plan. It's putting my friend in harm's way, knowingly sending her to either severe injury or death.

But it does make sense. As long as you make sure that you and Robin can both die reliably, you won't have a repeat of Breakneck Pass. You can keep control. Just make sure that happens. Make absolutely sure.

"I don't like it. It basically makes whichever one we send up a sitting duck in front of everyone. We have to make damn sure that all ranged attackers are taken down before Sumia or Cordelia heads up there, especially if we're sending most of the pegasus guard away from the battlefield," I say. "You sure about this?" Under my disingenuous protest and question, though, I know that if we go through with this, it's actually more important that just the opposite happens. That someone does get hurt.

"No, I'm not. But what else can we do?" Robin says, and she's more right than she knows. Making sure Emmeryn demoralizes the Plegians saves countless lives, and now I'm the only one who can make sure that happens while also hopefully saving the Exalt as well.

But I can't bring that up yet. "You're right. It's the best plan we have," is what I actually say.

"Alright. That should be everything, then. And you're sure about this formation as well? It mostly makes sense to me, but why have such a distance between us and the other… oh. I understand. You want an easy out if things go south," she says, eyes widening in understanding.

"Can't be too careful, right?" I reply sheepishly.

She nods. "A pretty smart idea, actually. I did say we should be prepared to die, after all."

I laugh nervously. "Yeah, you did." A lie hidden under another lie. Even if the first is uncovered, the underlying one remains. And she only scratched the surface.

* * *

Jesus, did that put me in a bad mood. I lie awake in the barebones camp, left mostly packed up in case any Plegians venture north to meet us before we can get ready to go. No black tent flap tonight, just sleeping with almost everyone on a massive communal tarp under the stars. Everyone is in full armor, and there are half a dozen people on watch at a time. By some miracle, I'm not assigned to any of the watch shifts for the night, so at least in theory I could get some good sleep. By morning, everyone will be ready to go at the drop of a hat.

The exception is Robin, who despite having dismissed me is still working under lamplight in her own tent, going over the plan over and over to make sure she's ready. I'm not so eager to memorize this plan, since I know for a fact it will change at least once.

"Feeling okay about tomorrow?" Stahl asks, lying beside me.

"Not even slightly, but we'll see. You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don't take, right?" I reply.

Silence for a moment. Then Gregor pipes up on the other side of me, "Just checked math in head. Is true. You cannot make shot if you don't take shot. So zero percent chance it happens." A couple people laugh.

"Even so," Chrom says maybe ten feet away, "that isn't the right attitude to have. We _will_ save Emmeryn. We _will_ stop King Gangrel. We _will_ end this war and take our country back. So don't just feel 'okay' about tomorrow. We must all decide to feel absolutely _sure_ about tomorrow. Because victory is the only choice we have."

"Wow," someone whispers somewhere else. I think that was Cordelia.

And really, there's not much else to say. Inspiring as all get out, but damn if that doesn't kill a friendly conversation. Which is fine, because I'm not really in the mood to talk to anyone right now anyway.

A thought occurs to me. What if giving Emmeryn a potential failsafe in the form of that magic sheet takes the wind out of her own sails when it comes to sacrifice? I mean, will she use the magic sheet at all? Or worse, if she does use it but doesn't try to sell the Plegians on giving up the war, will it have been worth it? I realize I'm counting on Emm being about as deceptive and underhanded as I am. I don't know much about who she is personally outside of her in-game messiah complex, so I can't really say either way. Even if everything goes my way, there's a chance she simply won't go for it.

Deep breaths. You'll never make it through the day if you don't get some rest. After making sure I've got both my Mend and my Rescue staves ready to go, I spend a couple minutes distracting myself by staring at the stars, wondering if I could connect them into a constellation. It's the right mix of relaxing and monotonous, and it helps take my mind off everything just enough that I can trick my brain into allowing my tired body to sleep.

I'm doing the right thing here, right?

* * *

" _Of course you're not."_

" _Oh good, it's you. And here I was starting to wonder if maybe you just haunted that tent and would leave me alone if I slept somewhere else."_

" _A lovely thought, but I'm afraid your sins follow you everywhere."_

" _The spitting image of Christian mercy, you are."_

" _Mercy is for the penitent. But to be penitent you must first resolve not to sin again. Yet you doom others time and again for your own aggrandizement. It's sickening to the core. You have no intention of stopping this."_

" _I'm trying to save lives here, you know."_

" _You're trying to be a hero. A big damned hero that will win the day and be the center of everyone's adoration. You can't lie to me."_

" _If doing what I can to make sure that Emm survives and the war still fizzles out makes me a self-serving jackass, then I guess I'm content to be one."_

" _You're still a liar. A liar and a fiend who plans to use the life of his supposed friend to cover his lie."_

" _There's no cover! You think Robin would actually believe me if I told her the whole truth?"_

" _You wouldn't know, because you've never truly considered it. Why keep such secrets from them?"_

" _..."_

" _Because you're afraid they'll cast you out. When they learn that you played the game, that you know the script, that you know things about them that no one should know, they'll never treat you like a human again. You'll be abandoned."_

" _What's wrong with being afraid of that? Why is it so wrong that I don't want them to know these things about me?"_

" _Ask Sumia. Ask Cordelia. Ask anyone in the Shepherds, really. You plan to let them down tomorrow, don't you?"_

" _In a world we plan to leave behind! In a timeline that will never happen!"_

" _A world YOU plan to leave behind, and you alone. Robin doesn't intend to die tomorrow; only you do. You're alone with your lies."_

" _Robin agreed with the plan to make our deaths an option. She knows the risks."_

" _Does she really? Remember Breakneck? When you tried to die and couldn't? When your supposed failsafe fell out from under you. You and everyone else survived by luck, and by the skill of those more worthy than you. Certainly more selfless."_

" _That won't happen this time. I'm ready now. I've turned my own blade on myself before, and I can do it again."_

" _And I take it that's supposed to make it all better?"_

" _It's sure a start. We're not exactly in an easy situation in the first place."_

" _When does it stop being a game to you, Randy?"_

" _And here I thought I was Mister Randall, Mindy."_

" _I think we're well past that. And you ignored my question."_

" _Why do you even take Mindy's form anymore? You're pretty plainly not her, and you're not even pretending anymore. What's the point?"_

" _Does it bother you?"_

" _A little, yeah. I now have more memories of this shitty version of her than the real one."_

" _That's the point."_

" _You fucker."_

" _It's no worse than you deserve."_

" _Seriously, what do I have to do to get you to leave me the fuck alone?"_

" _You already know."_

" _Just leave me alone."_

" _Tsk tsk. And all you had to do was say please. But that ship just sailed."_

" _The day I'll plead with you for anything is the day I can sing "Rolling in the Deep" out my asshole."_

" _There's your answer. You're the one keeping me here."_

* * *

Letting out a short scream, I sit bolt upright, sweating despite the chilly desert pre-sunrise morning. A few of the waking Shepherds jump in surprise and glance at me, and a few others wake up at the sound. However, no one says anything in response. I think everyone understands that nightmares are par for the course the night before a battle.

Even so, after I stand up and carefully step over the Shepherds and off the tarp, away from the rest of the Shepherds, I feel a hand on my shoulder. It's Maribelle.

"Are you alright?"

I shake my head. "No, no I'm not. Not today."

"Was it… them?"

I'm silent for a moment, deciding whether to answer truthfully. "...Yes. It was Mindy, er, Melinda. It's always her. But the one who lives in here," I tap my temple, "doesn't talk the way the real one did."

"I… I see. If it helps, I understand what you mean. In my darkest hours, I experience something similar." She hesitates for a moment, but goes on, "I often imagine Isadora reprimanding me for failing to protect her family. For failing to act as decisively against the enemy as she and everyone else at the villa did. That she would hate me for it if she had herself survived." Before I can open my mouth, she continues, "I know what you'll say. That she loved me dearly and would never blame me for the death of her daughter. And to almost every extent I would agree. But that nagging doubt remains. The thought that I could have, and should have, done more."

"Actually, I was going to say that makes two of us," I reply.

She sighs. "We're both such fools, drowning ourselves in this mental self-flagellation, aren't we?"

"Trust me, if I knew how to turn it off, I would."

She hesitates for a moment, then places her hand on my shoulder. As she leans in closer to whisper to me, I can feel the warmth of her face radiating onto mine in the cold desert early morning, even with a few inches between us.

"Even if we were both the failures we imagine ourselves to be, that doesn't mean we must always be so," she says in my ear. "We will get better, more and more every day. I have already seen you grow so much since we met. And today we will show everyone how much we have grown since we were taken from Themis. We will save the Exalt. We will protect everyone."

I let out a short, incredulous laugh. "That's a tall order, duchess."

"I expect nothing less from the man I trained personally," she replies, slowly letting her arm drop and letting me go. "You know, you're the only student I've ever had. That makes you officially the best student I've ever had as well."

Reminds me of what I said over dinner back in Darrow Town. That she was technically on the best date she'd ever been on. On another day, it might have been a sour memory, but today it draws a smirk out of me. "Thanks, Maribelle. I think I'm okay."

We're interrupted by Robin calling from up ahead, "Hey Randall! Since everyone's up, we're about to head out! Come back in the command wagon for a minute, I want to make sure we're good to go."

"You don't think I can have a little moment here?" I call back.

"You can have your moments all you like when the Exalt is back in safe hands! Come on! We've got work to do!" she retorts.

I look back at Maribelle. "We'll, uh, talk later, okay?"

She nods, her expression muted. "Of course. I'll see you soon."

I start to walk toward Robin, calling back as I do so, "Robin, we've been over these plans like a million times. There's nothing left to go over! Did you even sleep last night?"

"I slept enough, for your information. Perhaps less than normal, but enough," she replies.

Regardless of my irritation, I join her again in the command wagon. Waiting inside are Chrom, Sumia, and Cordelia, the latter of whom is currently attempting not to look at the former and is wearing a bright shade of red just being in an enclosed space with him.

"I just got done briefing these three on the plan as far as extracting the Exalt goes. Basilio's men are on standby to liberate the pegasus guard and escort them back across the Ylissean border, where they will hopefully join us after we are done here. From there, we will move as one to retake Ylisstol from the Plegians." Robin turns to the pair of pegasus knights. "Are you clear on your part in this plan?"

Cordelia salutes dutifully, with Sumia copying her a second later. Cordelia speaks up, having apparently managed to put her bashfulness on hold for duty's sake. "Yes, Robin. Once Captain Chrom gives the signal, whichever of us is closer is to move in to collect Exalt Emmeryn and bring her back to the ground safely, while the other follows closely behind to cover the extractor."

"R-right! What she said!" Sumia adds, trying to match Cordelia's forceful tone and doing a quarter-decent job of it.

"Excellent. Randall, is there anything else?" Robin asks.

All eyes in the room turn to me. I have nothing. Honestly, I can't even really look Cordelia or Sumia in the eye at the moment. "Just… let's make this happen, I guess."

* * *

As we approach the capital, I wonder how on earth we haven't raised any alarms yet. Is literally every soldier stationed in Golgotha down in the courtyard to watch the execution? I know they call him the Mad King and all, but this is just irresponsible. Not that I'm about to complain about it; makes our job a hell of a lot easier.

A voice rings out, cutting through the mid-morning heat and reaching us as we draw closer to the courtyard, "Good people! Warriors of Plegia! Welcome! Welcome, one and all! Your anticipation electrifies the air!"

I realize it's been a while since the last time I heard Gangrel's voice. Last time I was in his presence, he was threatening Maribelle with imprisonment and torture. I feel hot anger rise in my throat at the memory of it. The leather in my gloves squeals as I grip the metal shaft of the Mend staff in my hands.

As his speech continues, I feel a hand on my shoulder. "Randall, are you alright?" Robin asks.

I take a deep breath. "I will be, once we dismantle that guy."

"Easy there. Don't forget what our real goal is today. If there's only the chance to do one and not the other, I need you to be ready to commit to the rescue."

I grip my staff still more tightly in my hands. "I know. I'm fine. Let's do this."

"Finally, we will have JUSTICE!" Gangrel shouts to his men. "EXECUTIONER! If you would be so kind…"

That's her cue. "Flavia!" Robin shouts.

"I've got him!" The khan cocks her arm back, and when she hurls her axe, it's not unlike a trebuchet in terms of strength and distance. Even with the executioner so distant from us, and so close to Emmeryn, it's a statistically astronomical bullseye, and he falls from the spire. Despite that I know from the game that it happens, to watch it with my own eyes is awe-inspiring.

"EVERYONE! NOW!"

No time to think about that. It's party time.

Because we're the ones doing the attacking, and the onus to make movement happen is on us, we have to abandon our usual strategy of forming a line of heavy defenders guarding a line of ranged attackers and healers and instead rely on speed and mobility for our advantage. Since we have both ground troops and wyverns to contend with, we've separated most of the Shepherds into smaller teams that each have either an archer or a wind mage for air control as well as heavy hitters and other mages to deal with ground cavalry. Our speedier melee attackers are specifically slated to go after the enemy dark mages, as they've had the most consistent track record against them so far. Well, aside from me, as it seems so far that I can't really be harmed by most underling mages, but I'd rather focus on healing today.

To that end, my team consists of myself, Virion (whose elixir has been given to Ricken for today), Kellam, Miriel, Frederick, and Robin. Our team is bigger than most of the others to allow us to be the punching aggressive unit. Of course, Robin and I being together is also for the purpose of double assurance that we can die if (when) the need arises.

Contact. The Plegians are well organized, and their strike is coordinated so that the ground troops and the wyverns hit at the same time. It seems that even though they were all pretty absorbed in the execution a few minutes ago, they must have been warned that they should expect intervention today. As a result, it's an immediate and total onslaught, but fortunately that's what we planned for. While Frederick covers Virion as he's taking shots at the wyvern riders, the rest of us are huddled behind Kellam, whom none of the enemies seem to see until it's too late and they've already smashed into his shield. In the moment of disorganization that follows, Robin and Miriel are quick to turn that momentum completely around. Meanwhile, my role is almost exclusively to keep Kellam on his feet while he takes the brunt of the punishment. Though Frederick is taking hits as well, he's more adept at redirecting the momentum of the wyvern riders' charges and countering rather than simply letting the enemy clash with him. The inherent flow of mounted combat must contribute to this style of fighting. It's truly impressive to watch, even after this many battles together, but it is somewhat inhibited by the sand keeping his horse's mobility down.

A few of the enemy bust past Kellam to try and get at Miriel and me, but Robin is quick to draw one of her swords and counter the enemy. Even so, there's only one of her, and Miriel doesn't have any tools for up-front defense, so I step in to lend a hand as well. I take a swing at a merc's head, and even though I hit his headpiece, it still sends him reeling. Miriel takes the opportunity to fry him where he stands. He drops, smelling of charred meat and burnt hair. No matter how many enemies I see get dispatched with magic, I never seem to get used to it.

Still, I won't protest what works, and this certainly seems to be working, as we are able to advance downfield without really breaking momentum. Thanks to the Physic staff that Lissa brought to the fight, she's able to keep at a decent distance from danger while keeping her squad in order, while Anna's sword skill keeps her safe, and my ability with attacking with my staff, while not exactly perfection, is at least serviceable.

Maribelle, on the other hand, faces the double whammy of having no significant attacks coupled with Fleur-de-lis being bogged down by the desert sand. If there's any healer to worry about, it's definitely her. Even so, the fact that Robin and I need to be able to keep our distance from other healers conflicts with my desire to make sure she stays safe. Even with Chrom, Ricken, and Vaike to watch over her, I feel compelled to be ready to leap to her aid if it proves necessary.

"Randall!" Robin shouts, gesturing to Kellam, who just took a major hit to the thigh with an enemy lance.

No time to get distracted. I shake my head to clear my thoughts and rush to Kellam's side, patching him up and just barely getting out of the way before another lance soldier tries to run me through. Good God there's a lot of these asshats. The game did not give an accurate impression of what literally storming the capital city of the enemy nation would be like, if you can imagine that.

Fortunately, I can see in the distance, they also didn't give an accurate impression of how much help we have either. Even though most of the Feroxi forces went the long way around and never met up with us before today, they're undeniably making an impact on the field now. It seems that the Plegians are having to defend themselves on all sides, which will definitely help with keeping up the pressure.

Another guy busts past Kellam, making a beeline for yours truly. Frederick and Robin are too busy fending off other guys to help, so it looks like I'm on my own for a moment.

I decide my best choice is to surprise him by taking the offensive right away. I take a wide swing at him, missing his body but connecting with his lance and batting it off-balance and away from me. Looking to close the gap so he can't use his lance effectively, I step forward and take a swing at his head with my fist. Unfortunately, he ducks just in time for me to hit his doofy metal helmet instead. An instant wave of pain washes over my hand and forearm.

"You fucker," I hiss as I grab his shoulder and throw a knee into his crotch. I know it's not exactly fair fighting, but my hand is in enough pain that I can't be bothered to care. He convulses in pain, doubling over. By now Robin's free to step over and stab down through the back of his neck. That's the end of him.

"LOOK OUT!" we hear from upfield. Looking to the source of the shout, I see Gaius waving in a panic as he chases desperately after a pair of dark mages that have broken past him and are heading our way.

One of them casts a spell that smashes into Kellam before I can leap in front to take the hit. He goes flying back, crashing on top of Miriel and taking both of them out of the fight for the moment. The second one follows up quickly with a blast of magic aimed at Frederick's horse, striking it in the leg and causing it to fall onto its side. There's a shout of pain from both Frederick and Virion as the horse's torso crushes each of their left legs under its armored weight.

Just like that, two thirds of our squad has been taken down. God damn are these capital mages good.

Their approach continues unabated, and they both target Robin first. They must assume a healer like me would be pretty helpless if the rest of his protection were dispatched first. Even so, when the first blast comes flying her way, I'm in a suitable position to dive in front and take the hit. It flings me back, and I land just in front of Robin, who's quick to give me a hand up before letting loose a retaliatory Elthunder blast back at her with such fury that her hood flies off and her hair blows out behind her.

Wait, her? I clutch my chest; that's definitely a Nosferatu tome that hit me. Is that mage…?

The mage in question stops short even after dodging the Elthunder, her eyes visibly widening. Beside me, Robin is readying another blast, but I hold out an arm to stop her.

"R-robin? Is that you?" Tharja asks, so quietly she can barely be heard over the distant din of the fight.

Robin gasps. "Do you… do I know you?" she asks urgently.

The other mage fires a blast at Robin, and though it hurts like hell to take a second hit in this short a time, I let the Flux magic hit me instead. Before either of us can counterattack, though, Tharja is already on him, unleashing a point-blank Nosferatu spell in his face. The moment he's dead, she turns back to Robin and rushes toward her, pushing me aside to make way for her to throw her arms around her.

"Robin! Robin, I've found you!" Tharja cries, looking about ready to burst into tears from the emotional overload.

At first alarmed, Robin takes a breath to calm herself. "So you do know me. I'm sorry, but I don't know who you are."

"It's me! It's Tharja! Don't you remember all the times we played together? All the secrets we shared?" she asks, a desperate tinge to her voice.

By now Gaius has caught up with us. He stands beside me, watching the scene unfolding in front of us. He raises a brow at me, and I shrug in reply. This is all new to me too.

"I'm sorry… Tharja. I had an amnesiac event. I don't remember much of anything before a few months ago," Robin explains. "But we have to get back to the fight. Will you fight with us?"

Tharja's eyes burn with intensity as she finally lets go of Robin. "Of course. As long as you're with me, Robin."

Remembering myself, I rush to Kellam and heal him first, as I didn't see how badly he was injured. Though the healing was successful, he's still down for the count, so I have to pry him up so that Miriel can get out from under him and his heavy armor.

After I give Miriel a quick touch-up healing, she kneels over Kellam and says, "I will stay with him until he awakens. I trust this new admittance to the fold can take my place in Robin's strategy adequately?"

I nod in understanding; as much as it sucks to lose two people in one go, it's more important that they stay alive. I move over to the pair still struggling to get out from under Frederick's horse. Extending my staff to the panting horse, I realize I still don't know if healing staves work on nonhuman animals. Fortunately, as the magic streams out of my staff and circles the horse's leg, it seems they do. After that, it's a matter of Robin and me pulling the horse up enough to allow Frederick to pull himself and Virion out from under the horse.

After a minute or so, everyone except Kellam and Miriel is ready to go. However, as we turn back to the fight, it's clear that this whole debacle has put us far behind the other groups. Chrom's group is far enough that they've been reduced to hazy figures in the distance. Even so, from here I can see Maribelle's big curly hair towering over the rest of her group from atop her mount.

We start booking it down the field, trying to close the gap, but before we make significant progress, I spot a few more shapes that draw my attention. It looks like a few wyvern riders have taken to the sky from the fortresses south of the courtyard and are looking to engage us from the east. They circle north to try to get behind our lines and hit the more vulnerable targets.

"Virion, take them out!" Robin commands urgently. "It looks like Ricken's too caught up with the ones in front of the group!"

"They're out of my range!" he replies, and just like that, panic sets in. My run turns to a sprint, as does everyone else's as we desperately try to get close enough to help. Though we all scream for them to notice the new enemies behind them, they must not hear us over the din of their own fight.

Even so, they do notice, but not quickly enough. Vaike dodges the strike meant for him, and Ricken manages to knock one of the riders off his wyvern with an Elwind spell, but Chrom isn't able to get around Fleur-de-lis' large and ungainly form until it's too late and the rider has gotten a swing off.

A second later, Maribelle falls from her horse.

"MARIBELLE!"

As we rush closer, Ricken and Chrom both kneel over her, with Ricken scrambling to get his elixir out of his pouch. However, as he pours it down her throat and even pours some onto her wound directly, it becomes apparent just from looking at Chrom's expression that it isn't helping.

"Come on Maribelle, come on, you're going to be alright," Chrom is saying as he gently shakes her shoulders while he holds her against his chest. "Come on, don't do this."

I move to try and use my staff, but I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn and see that it's Robin, with a grave expression on her face. She subtly shakes her head, then gestures with a look to suggest that we get some distance from the others.

"No Robin, there's still a chance," I say, turning back to Maribelle and taking a knee to get in position to try and heal her wound, which is an incredibly massive gash out of her torso, down from her collarbone and straight through to her heart. The momentum provided by a charging wyvern's speedy dive must give its rider a freakish amount of power in a well-placed swing.

Ignoring the enormity of the wound, I point my Mend staff and tell it to go to work. Still, even when I try to force the magic out with every ounce of my spiritual strength (and wear myself out a good measure in the process), there's no visible change.

Chrom glares at me desperately. "Come on, Randall! What are you waiting for?"

"I'm… trying…" I grunt, redoubling my efforts. The wound won't close.

"Randall, come on! Please!" Chrom shouts.

"I… I can't…" I have to admit at last.

"No, no you can't say that. You can't! Please don't say that! Don't tell me…" He turns back to her, and the first sob breaks through.

The hand is back on my shoulder. I understand.

I stand and start walking away from the scene with Robin.

"Where are you going?" Chrom demands as we retreat. I have no answer for him. "You can't run from this! Neither of you can run from this!" He sets her down, stands, and strides forward, grabbing my shoulder. "I thought you said you cared! That she mattered to you! That you'd take a blade to the chest for her! But now you won't even stand by her side?"

I don't know what to say. "Chrom, it's… it's over."

He looks almost dumbfounded. "What?"

"We tried to save everyone, and it didn't happen. I'm sorry."

His grip on my shoulder tightens painfully. I wince. "What about this supposed plan we had? The plan that you two spearheaded. Was this part of the plan?"

"Of course not. It wasn't a good enough plan," I say through gritted teeth as his fingers dig into my collarbone.

"That's not enough," Chrom chokes out as the tears return. "You can't just say it wasn't good enough and walk away. Come on. We were supposed to save everyone, weren't we? What happened to that?"

Robin places her hand on Chrom's. "Chrom. I'm truly sorry, but you need to let him go. We can fix this, but you have to let go of him."

"How do you plan to fix this, Robin?" he demands. "I knew you were a little distant and a little cold and calculating, but just in case you didn't know, human lives aren't replaceable! I never thought you were so unfeeling that you wouldn't understand this! There's no 'fixing' this!"

Robin's expression is hard to read. "Chrom. Let us go."

"Us? You and him, off to just abandon her, abandon us, and walk away? Is that what you want?"

"I have no time for this," Robin says, opening her tome. Everyone stirs at once, unsure whether to pull a weapon on Robin or not. "You'd better let us go, now."

"Or what, you'll attack me?" Chrom replies, clearly not thinking straight anymore.

She pulls a spell from the open page. Frederick holds his axe aloft threateningly, and a few others brandish their weapons at her for good measure. In response, Tharja pulls out a spell of her own and stands ready to defend Robin. Everyone holds that tense position for a few seconds.

Finally, Chrom lets go of me. "Fine. Go then. Get the hell out of here! You've already killed the one person I most wanted to keep safe." He turns back to Maribelle and falls to his knees beside her. He won't look at us as we walk away. Everyone else either stares at us or rejoins the fight, but no one tries to stop us anymore.

As we keep going away from the group, though, I notice Tharja has come with us as well, unwilling to leave Robin alone. That complicates things.

"Tharja. I need you on the front lines with the others," Robin says seriously.

"I can't do that. I won't leave you alone when we're in such a dangerous place," Tharja replies, draping her hands on Robin's shoulder.

Robin shrugs her off roughly. "Just go for now, please," she says, more forcefully this time.

Tharja stands firm. "I won't."

Robin sighs. "Fine. Randall, I'm… going back. Make sure I make it before you go yourself."

I nod a little numbly. "Okay."

She nods in return, opening her tome and drawing out a handful of magic. "Stand back, Tharja," she says.

"What are you…?" Tharja begins to ask.

Robin raises her arm and puts her hand against her head. I close my eyes and turn my head away as she releases the spell. I wait for the faint _whump_ of her body hitting the sand before I dare open my eyes.

Tharja shrieks, frantically collapsing on the ground next to Robin and cradling her body. For my part, I turn away from Tharja and before I can give it too much thought, I pull the knife from my belt and place the blade against my throat. Before I can make the cut, though, Tharja is on me, grabbing my shoulders and spinning me to face her.

" _What did you do? What did you do to her?_ " Tharja demands, fire in her eyes. This is very unlike the Tharja I'm used to in-game. I guess this is what the emerging yandere's unhinged side looks like.

I start to say 'nothing,' but before I can get the word out, she's already pushing me away and interrupting me.

"You did something to her. You brainwashed her. Hexed her! I can feel the darkness in you!" she cries, raising her tome and pointing her hand at me threateningly.

"The hell are you talking about? What darkness?" I demand in reply.

"Don't play dumb with me! I can see it plain as day! You… I'll kill you!" The spell in her hand glows more intensely, pulling in the ambient light around it.

I throw my arms up. "Go for it! That's what I'm going for anyway!"

She blinks. Then her expression hardens again. "I won't let you get inside my head!" she cries, throwing the spell into my chest. Despite my significant resistance, I can tell before I've even hit the ground that this wound is no joke. Not that I'm given all that much time to reflect on it before she's flinging another one at my prone form. And then another.

Nosferatu feels different from spells like Flux or Goetia. While those two are both essentially spells focused on decay and destruction on the fundamental level, Nosferatu feels more like someone hooked up a vacuum hose to my spiritual energy supply and flipped the switch. I convulse as my life force is drained out of me like water through a strainer, until eventually the will to live leaves my body and everything goes as black as the spell in her hand.

* * *

" _So, back for seconds, eh? A little greedy, don't you think?"_

" _...Huh? What the hell am I doing here? Why aren't I waking up?"_

" _If I had to guess, I'd say it's because you're not awake."_

" _That's weird. Maybe Robin's already awake today, so she set the respawn point instead of me?"_

" _Do I look like I know or care? I'm not here to provide mundane answers like that."_

" _Yeah, I know. You're here to make sure I never sleep soundly again."_

" _Not quite. You keep dodging the issue."_

" _Which is?"_

" _It's not for me to say."_

" _God damn do I hate you."_

" _Getting warmer."_

* * *

My eyes snap open and are greeted with the open sky, tinged with easterly light as the sun starts making its climb up from the horizon. I sit up, looking around until I find Maribelle. I breathe a sigh of relief as I see her shoulders slowly rise and fall with the breath of sleep. We made it back. We're okay.

I managed not to wake anyone up this time, so when I step over everyone to get some air, I do so alone. Figuring I'll test my theory that Robin is already awake, I tread lightly over to the solitary tent and pull back the flap. Sure enough, there she is, poring over her maps by lamplight and looking pretty miffed.

"Hey there," I say, causing her to jump. "How long have you been up?"

"I'm not sure. An hour, maybe? Come in, and shut the flap," she says without expression.

I obey and take a seat by her. "So, quick clarification on the rules of our power. What's it normally like for you when you have to go back?" I ask.

"Normally I have a brief period of a sort of dreamlike state. Sometimes it's a continuation of whatever dream I was having before, sometimes it's new. But I didn't experience that this time. Did something change for you too?"

I nod. "Usually I just snap straight back to consciousness, but this time I actually dreamed for a bit. I think it's because whoever wakes up first sets the respawn point, so the other one, when they respawn, goes back to when they were still sleeping. It's just jumping into the middle of the sleep cycle."

She places a finger on her chin in a thoughtful and very Anna-esque manner. "I do usually find you're already awake when I first wake up. That must be it. I'll say up front, I'm no fan of waking up straight away with no interlude. Regardless, we have other matters to discuss."

"Like your apparent bestie from the past?"

"Exactly. She could potentially be a significant boon for us if she's willing to join us, and she certainly seems willing."

"I'd damn sure say so. She's the one who killed me."

A pause. "I see. In that case, it seems we can count on her devotion."

There's a silence between us, as neither of us seems to want to bring up what happened with Chrom near the end.

Eventually I decide to speak up. "So, are you alright? You know…"

She nods, not looking right at me. "Yeah, I'm good. It was a little… strange, to see him get like that. I had come to suspect that he was in love with Maribelle, but I didn't think he'd go that far."

"I mean, you kinda went hard yourself. Threatening him like that?"

"It was necessary. We couldn't risk being detained or somehow sealing the events in stone. Getting away from them took priority, and if we were killed in the process, even better."

"I hope what he said didn't bother you. You know, about being cold and all–"

"It's fine," Robin interrupts, signaling that it's anything but fine. "He had just lost the woman he loves. It's sensible for him to lash out like that. I'm admittedly a little… distressed that he seems to think that of me, but there are worse things to be than unfeeling, I suppose."

I recall with some guilt that I thought of her in the same way not that long ago. "Like you said, he was lashing out. He didn't mean it."

"I know. Let's just focus on how we can do better this run." She smooths her hair out and refocuses herself on the map.

Deciding to play along for now, I say, "So we need a way to keep Maribelle safe. Of all the healers, she's in the most danger."

"Right. We need to rework our strategy. For one thing, I'll keep my hood down on the battlefield, that way Tharja will hopefully see me sooner and defect to our cause without taking out any of our soldiers."

"It's a good start. But let's also do this with the formation over here…"

* * *

As we trudge toward Golgotha, I find my mind drifts to what Tharja said before she killed me. She felt the darkness in me? What does that mean? Just that I can use dark magic tomes? That doesn't seem like something she'd freak out so much about though. Is there something more to it than that? Some kind of particular, extra-spicy darkness?

I can't help but chuckle at the edginess of it all.

Gangrel's speech interrupts my thoughts. I can't wait to knock that smug grin clean off his face one of these days.

Once more, Flavia makes the incredible throw to take out the executioner. It's good to see that some things don't change, despite their immense improbability.

And just like that, the battle is upon us again. We didn't actually change up our strategy much from the first run, with a few exceptions. Firstly, we lumped Lissa's group and Maribelle's group together. It's better for them each to have more protection as well as the ability to heal each other if the need arises. Just because Robin and I shouldn't be near any healers, doesn't mean every healer has to be similarly isolated, after all. And secondly, our group is putting some extra effort in to make sure we're near the front of the pack, keeping up with our speedy mage-killers; we want to make sure we reach Tharja as quickly as possible to avoid something awful like her killing Gaius or getting killed by him.

As a result, we're having some trouble keeping Kellam at the front of the group, and have instead moved Frederick to the front line, with Virion in the back on the ground rather than on horseback like last time. Kellam's role is now pretty specifically to guard Miriel (and in tight spots, Virion) rather than protect the group as a whole. In turn, my response to these changes is to keep closer to Frederick so that he can keep the enemy off my ass while I keep him and Robin healed up.

On deeper consideration, we really aren't using Kellam to the best of his ability. He's seeing comparatively little action and is generally hampering our group's pace. If we had trained Miriel on healing staves (I think we could, and when time allows we almost certainly should) it would be one thing, but as it is I'm having to keep an eye on the trio even as they fall farther and farther behind.

By a nice stroke of luck, though, we aren't being as thoroughly beaten down this time around. Maybe our push forward is diverting some of their forces behind us and toward the other groups that are following in our wake. It does make me worry for Maribelle and Lissa, but with a double-strong group protecting them, I hope things will work out back there.

Honestly, if anyone's in danger this time, it's me. Even with Frederick and Robin ahead of me, the more we push ahead, the more we open up our flanks to attack. And by 'our flanks' I mostly mean me. If it weren't for the fact that Frederick is actually keeping pace pretty well, I'd say Robin is being downright reckless with this strategy. I'm fending off attacks from both sides of me at odd intervals, and if it weren't for Miriel and Virion's covering fire, I'm sure I'd have been overwhelmed by now.

Still, it seems like the plan must have worked out, because there's Tharja, safe and sound, making a beeline for Robin when she spots her gleaming white hair.

"Robin! Robin, is that you? What are you doing with the Ylisseans?" Tharja asks, casually throwing a Nosferatu behind her to silence her partner when he tries to lob a Flux at us.

"It's a long story. But the Plegian army is the true enemy. Will you stand with me?" Robin asks.

"Of course," Tharja half-coos, grinning with a sinister edge. She glances at me, and her brow briefly furrows. "Just point me at the enemy, Robin. I have no particular loyalty to this army."

Now that we've got her, we can afford to slow down a little and let the other groups catch up with us. As we turn to help thin out the forces that went around us, I'm relieved to see that none of the Shepherds have fallen so far. Still, it's apparent that this strategy has taken its toll on them; the increased pace and the greater load of Plegians to take care of have left our front line looking pretty miserable. In particular, Kellam looks like he's about ready to drop.

And to top it off, we're faced by another wave of mages, due to the increased pace of our group forcing the mage-killers to work fast instead of doing a thorough job. So now most of us are having to duck and dodge to keep the magic barrage off us. For my part, I'm standing up on the front line to absorb some attacks and soak up some damage. Oodles of fun.

However, even I have my limits, and I can feel myself pressing up against them as I take shot after shot while our ranged attackers provide covering fire for the mage-killers, who are trying to close the gap.

Just when I'm about to fall to my knees, though, the barrage lightens up. Or wait, that's not quite right. It would be more accurate to say the blasts stop hurting so much, even though they keep coming. What the hell? Squinting in the bright sun to see what caused the change, I spot a person clothed in white standing behind the Plegian line, holding aloft a staff. Wow that person is pretty.

Oh shit! It's Libra! With all this Tharja panic, I had kinda forgotten about her- _him._ He's a _man_. A very pretty man. Don't get distracted by those eyes, Randy. Those damned pretty eyes. And that hair, flowing and shining in the desert sunli– _no_! Think about Cordelia or something!

Anyway, it seems he must have used his Ward staff to give me an extra boost to keep me going, which I greatly appreciate. Unlike with healing spells, I didn't even notice a ward being put up around me. It just sort of happened. In fact, but for a vague shimmery quality around my body, it doesn't really have much of a presence at all. Makes sense, I guess.

Meanwhile, Libra has already switched to using his other specialty: the axe he is currently mowing down mages with. Though he's just one person, he does throw off their rhythm enough that we are able to get the drop on them and take them down.

Libra yanks his axe out of his latest target, adding an alarming splash of crimson to his white monk outfit. He stands upright and turns to Chrom, who's come forward to stand by me and who looks a little confused. Libra bows reverently.

"My lord Chrom, brother to Her Grace the Exalt, I am glad to have run across your group!"

"You know me?" Chrom asks.

"Of course. All in the clergy are familiar with the Exalted family. Now let us thank the gods for allowing us to come together, milord. Oh merciful Naga–"

Chrom interrupts him. "Err, perhaps now isn't the time to pause for prayer," he says, his statement punctuated by Ricken shouting in the distance as he knocks a wyvern rider out of the sky.

"Right you are, milord. My comrades and I hastened to join the effort to liberate the Exalt as soon as we heard of the order for her execution."

"Comrades? Are there more of you?" Chrom asks.

Libra looks down for a moment. "Not anymore. Working our way through the Plegian countryside proved a quite difficult task. After all, a group of clergy as obviously Ylissean as us was sure to draw attention. We were slowly whittled away as we made our way west, and now only I remain."

Chrom bows his head respectfully. "I am truly sorry for your loss, er…"

"Libra, sire. And I thank you. Please, allow me to make their sacrifice bear fruit by joining your ranks and assisting with the Exalt's liberation!" Libra replies.

"Of course. We welcome any help we can get, let alone from such a clearly capable wo–"

Looking to save him from some embarrassment, I nudge Chrom in the ribs. He looks at me incredulously. I shake my head a bit to allow my own long hair to flow in the breeze and hopefully get my message across. Mercifully, his eyes widen in understanding.

"I mean, a formidable man of the cloth such as yourself is certainly welcome with us," Chrom stammers.

Libra smiles genuinely. God damn, even his teeth are gorgeous. "Many thanks, milord. Shall we get back to it?"

"Right," Chrom says, and we re-enter the fray.

With the addition of Libra and his Ward staff, the enemy mages pose a much smaller threat than before. Unlike the staff in the game, this real staff can be used quickly and repeatedly without breaking, it seems. Soon most of our front line is shimmering with magical protection, shouting triumphantly as we smash through their ranks of mages and melee warriors alike.

We're able to get back into the sort of order we like once we're clear of the sand and get back into the firmer rocky soil south of the courtyard. Organized now as one firm front line with the ranged attackers and healers behind, it seems like we've got this fight pretty much on lockdown.

Of course, because I dared to even think such a thing, disaster strikes. I had completely forgotten about the reinforcement regiment of wyvern riders coming from the north until they were already bearing down on us at full speed. Sumia and Cordelia barely have time to warn us that the enemy is closing in from behind before they make contact.

Thank God, Ricken is quick enough on the draw to snipe the one that was making a beeline for Maribelle, but that's just one of many, and more than one have taken aim at me. Though I block the first one's swing with my staff, it still knocks me off balance enough that the second one's swing hits me pretty firmly in the shoulder. I shout and drop to a knee, but before long Libra is at my side, putting me back in working order.

I spring to my feet. "Thanks, Libra," I say, stretching my arm a bit and preparing for when they loop back around to take another set of swings. It seems Plegian wyvern strategy is based almost entirely on the superior speed of a wyvern over other fliers. Rather than staying in one place and utilizing the wyvern's impressive physical strength, they prefer a hit-and-run strategy, never staying in one place for long enough to make easy targets of themselves. I assume they adopted this tactic as a means of countering the more agile pegasus riders of Ylisse, as well as their archers and wind mages. It's an annoying way to fight, but it certainly works for them.

The next volley of attacks barrels through, but this time with Libra's help I'm able to hold firm and stop them. They swoop past us and prepare to make their wide loop again, but before they get more than ten or so feet behind us, I feel a sudden flash of wild, intense pain to the back of my head, blinding me instantly and causing me to fall flat on my face.

"Brother healer!" I think I hear Libra shout, but as my hand drifts to the back of my head, the rest of the world's noises fade to vague fuzziness. I gingerly feel the blade of the hand axe to see how far the blade penetrated. I eventually settle on 'very fucking deep' before the heat of the desert sand against my face cools and fades as the rest of my senses fail.

* * *

" _Hey there."_

" _Fuck off. Not in the mood."_

" _Aww, are you upset because you took a hand axe to the head and lost yet another run?"_

" _Yes. Now fuck off."_

" _It really seems like your head is a magnet for those things, doesn't it?"_

" _Twice is coincidence. If it happens a third time, then we can talk about patterns. Now please, just go away."_

" _But you keep replying."_

" _..."_

" _I mean, if you really wanted me to go away, you'd have stopped talking."_

" _..."_

" _Oops, I shouldn't have let that slip. I was kidding anyway. I'm here till you wake up, whether you have anything to say or not. So get comfy, because if you don't start replying, I'm going to start listing off all the ways you're a giant waste of flesh."_

" _..."_

" _Okay, here we go. Number one…"_

* * *

Mercifully, I wake up. Looks like Robin must've gotten herself killed somehow too. I shouldn't have gotten separated from her in that last run near the end. I got too caught up with meeting Libra.

As I stand up and start trudging over to Robin's tent, it hits me how tired I already am. This blows. I open the flap and peer in at Robin, already rubbing her eyes drowsily.

"Sorry about that," I say as I shuffle in and sit down beside her.

"Don't worry about it," she sighs. "If it wasn't you, it was bound to be someone else. So now we need to remember to account for the wyverns coming in from behind. I'm starting to wish we weren't literally storming the enemy capital. I understand how important the Exalt is and all, but this is just absurd." She pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Hey, we can do it, don't worry. We just need to take more factors into account, that's all," I try to reassure her, patting her shoulder kinda awkwardly.

I guess it half-worked. "Sure. Let's take another look," she says without a hint of emotion.

* * *

Okay, look. This battle is _tough_. Like, _really_ tough. It's a long, difficult fight, and the enemy seems to only get more numerous as time goes on. It turns out, walking right into the enemy capital on the day that the king said the Exalt would be killed is exactly the recipe for a mismatched battle. They barely need to strategize; just with overwhelming numbers, it seems like they can smoke us.

Anyway, the reason I bring this up is, we lost the third run. We got pretty far, too, but once the second wave of mages hit, they caught the exhausted Kellam off guard and killed him with a double tap of Flux. So Robin and I went back and tried working on pacing to keep our fighters fresh enough to go on.

* * *

We lost the fourth run too. We almost got to the courtyard itself, but the wyvern riders pouring out of the forts on either side of the castle sandwiched us and killed Panne and Gregor. We need a slower, more careful approach to the courtyard to avoid getting flanked.

* * *

We lost the fifth run too. This time we didn't actually get that far, as Gaius got himself killed by the mages he was taking on after an attempted dodge had him slip on the sand and left him a sitting duck. We didn't really learn anything valuable.

* * *

We lost the sixth run too. The mages busted through our mage-killers and ganged up on Nowi, whose physical resistance is great but whose magical resistance is kinda mediocre. Certainly not enough to save her from that kind of onslaught. We need to be less demanding of our tanks and more reliant on our DPS guys.

* * *

We lost the seventh run too. This one was the most concerning, as it could pretty much be pinned on Robin's (and my) mounting fatigue. I wasn't doing my best healing, and she definitely wasn't doing her best field directing. We were pretty handily overrun.

We need to get this battle done before something happens that we can't fix.

* * *

When I go into Robin's tent on the morning of the eighth run, she's asleep sitting up. Just looking at a sleeping person gives me a headache. I flop onto the floor beside her and nudge her, to no avail.

"Robin," I slur, "wake the hell up. We gotta win a battle and shit."

Nothing. I nudge her harder.

"Robin, c'mon, it's game time. We gotta make a plan that'll save everyone's asses so we can go to bed later." I push her a little harder this time, but all she does is fall on her side and assume a head-in-arms sleeping position.

Looks pretty cozy, not gonna lie. No, don't even think about it. Once you've saved Emmeryn and everyone else, you can sleep all you like in the medical cart or something.

Robin stirs in her sleep, groaning uncomfortably. She squirms a little, as if trying to shake off insects from her skin. I tentatively grab her shoulder.

"Uh, Robin?"

She snaps awake, instantly grabbing my hand in a vice-like grip. With wide eyes, she stares at me for a full three seconds before finally taking a breath and letting go of me.

Brushing some sand off herself as she sits up, she says, "Sorry. I'm sorry. I was, uh, having a dream. It wasn't a nice one."

That's right, isn't Chapter 9 when Robin has her premonition of Validar coming back to life or talking to Grima or something? Maybe that's what happened.

"You alright?" I ask.

She takes a couple deep breaths and rubs her eyes before answering. "I think so. But it's increasingly obvious that we are losing our strength with each run."

"You're telling me. But if we can just get this goddamn battle over with, we can take some time to recharge."

She tries to smooth her hair out, then gives up after a few seconds. "You say it like it's that easy. It seems like every time we account for one problem, another crops up to take its place."

"Don't I know it. But we can't let ourselves be the problem either. Even if technically we could do this forever, we're really only looking at a couple more runs before we just can't hack it anymore."

"A couple? I'm inclined to doubt we can do more than this last one," Robin moans.

"Exactly. We gotta do it this time, so we can avoid actually just collapsing on the battlefield." It's really hard to be motivated enough for two people when I'm in this state.

She sighs. "Think one of our cavaliers would let us take a nap on their horse?"

I shake my head sadly. "I've tried it. No dice."

"When?" she asks incredulously.

"On I think the third run of the Grimleal. I even asked Panne. No takers."

She huffs. "Well that's disheartening. Let's just get ready to go, I guess." Her voice wobbles as if she's getting ready to cry. I know that's how I feel right now.

"Yeah, let's go." As we leave her tent, the morning sun greets me with a full force blast to the eyeballs, sending a splitting headache through the back of my head.

I hate the desert so much.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello all! Welcome to the first chapter after the official genre change. I've been considering it for a while, but it's been some time since the last time comedy was a focus of my story. I think it's much more fair to call it an adventure that occasionally cracks jokes than a comedy based on a quest.**

 **So from now on, I'm going to try to be better about reaching out to those who give me feedback and at least thanking them for the effort if not seeking further advice. I do love interacting with my readers, but I'm not super great at starting conversations online, so it's something I want to work on. I just don't want people to think I don't take their thoughts into account; I totally do, and I appreciate it every time someone gives me their opinion.**

 **Things in my life should be getting back to normal for a while, so hopefully more writing can happen. The semester has started, and I'm no longer working my jobs (or traveling in Europe, as was the case a few weeks ago). I hope that means everything can mellow out for a bit. (For those wondering, the law school admission test went very well, so your old pal is in a fine mood lately)**

 **With the fourth chapter that breaks the 10k word count, I have a question for you guys. Do you like these longer chapters that cover a lot of ground, or do you miss the good old days of 4-5k chapters? I've been weighing the issue myself, and I still don't know one way or the other. Longer chapters of course take longer to produce and can be harder to digest on a first read, but they also can be kinda self-contained stories (like the battle with the Grimleal taking just one chapter, for example). I feel like this battle, which even with a 11.5k word chapter isn't done and needs a second chapter anyway, is a good time to bring up that question. What do you guys think?**

 **As always, I have to thank the excellent Syntaxis for helping with beta reading, but this time around I have a second name you might recognize to thank as well: Mixed Valence, of Earthborne fame! He's been mega helpful as well with idea generation and editing, so they both get a huge thanks from me. And here is your out of context Syntaxis quote of the week: "** **I obsessed over this question in the science portion about the colon or something."**

 **As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**


	24. Ch 24: The One-Two Punch

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 24: The One-Two Punch**

"Good people! Warriors of Plegia! Welcome! Welcome, one and all! Your anticipation electrifies the air!"

"Blah blah blah, keep talking you stupid cripe," I mutter, still looking forward to the day I can get ahold of him and ram my staff where even a sun this obnoxiously bright doesn't shine.

"Flavia!" Robin calls for the eighth time, and then we're back at it. Again.

Fortunately, the early fight has pretty much become old hat for us by this point in terms of what the enemy will do, so we don't have much trouble directing the team right out the gate. Unlike with the last run, we're doing our best to power through the fatigue and keep the fight under our control.

Across all the runs we've done so far, one thing that helps us has become increasingly clear. Though the Plegian forces have a ton of soldiers to command, they aren't in very good communication with the leadership, so as a result they don't change up their tactics much in response to our own strategies. In other words, no matter what we do, we can count on the Plegians doing more or less the same thing every time. Even if, say, we do something truly unorthodox.

Something like having Donnel and Ricken ride atop dragon-Nowi's back and take to the skies to face the enemy in the air as a chaotic death whirlwind of magic and pointy things.

* * *

 _One hour-ish earlier..._

"Randall and Robin, are you sure this is going to work?" Ricken asks nervously, glancing at Nowi next to him and Donnel on the other side of her.

"What, are you saying you don't trust Nowi?" I ask, gesturing to the little manakete.

Nowi gasps. "Hey, yeah! Don'tcha trust me, Ricken?" she demands, leaning in toward him with mock-aggression.

He raises his hands to defend himself. "I didn't say that! I just, it's just that I've never flown anything before. I don't know how to do it, is all."

Nowi scowls. "I can fly myself, you know. You don't have to fly me."

"Oh, uh, right." Ricken looks away sheepishly. "But I don't get why I couldn't just go up with Cordelia or Sumia. Don't they already have experience flying their pegasi?"

"For a pegasus to stay airborne, they can only handle so much weight. They can go fairly short distances with a second rider, but they definitely can't do it for a full capital raid, and we need those pegasi in good condition when we send them to rescue Emmeryn. Nowi's a dragon, so we're figuring that she can handle a little bit more," I say.

"Yeah, I totally can! I'm super strong when I'm in my dragon form!" Nowi says.

Donnel chimes in, "So I get why Ricken's gotta go up, what with the wind magic and all. But why am I the other one goin' up to protect him?"

"Because you're one of the lighter Shepherds, and we don't want Nowi to get too tired carrying two people around in flight. Gaius is probably around the same weight, but his sword and daggers don't really do much in the air compared to the lance. So you're our best option," Robin explains.

Donnel nods in understanding. "Alrighty then. I guess I'll grab up some reins from the supply caravan."

"Whoa, you guys are gonna use reins? Like I'm a horse?" Nowi asks.

"Well, we gotta be able to hang on somehow, right?" Donnel replies a little defensively.

"That's so fun! It'll be like playing a game, and I'm playing the noble steed!" Nowi says, giggling.

"Uh, yep, kinda. I'll go get them, then," Donnel says, taking his leave of us. "Should probably grab a saddle too," he mumbles as he leaves.

"You know it's not a game, though, right Nowi?" Ricken asks concernedly.

Still smiling, Nowi says, "I know. But it's a little easier if I pretend like it is sometimes."

 _When does it stop being a game to you, Randy?_

I think my headache just came back. I decide not to comment, even when no one else says anything for a moment.

"Alright," Robin says, breaking what was getting dangerously close to the 'uncomfortable silence' threshold, "are we all clear on the plan, then?"

"Yup!" Nowi says cheerfully.

"Y-yeah," Ricken says, considerably less cheerfully.

As they leave, Robin turns to me. Wordlessly, we exchange a sleepy nod. The sorts of things a sleep-deprivation-addled pair of brains can come up with, ladies and gentlemen.

* * *

Despite Ricken's worries, it turns out Nowi isn't half bad as an airborne mount. Donnel is keeping a hand on the reins to stabilize them, while Ricken usually keeps a hand on Donnel unless he's casting. It's a little unwieldy at first ("WAAAaaaaaah!" Ricken's shout fades into the distance as they shoot skyward), but once they find their rhythm they really can't be stopped. Together, they become an unholy wave of devastation that mows down their wyvern presence in the air by allowing Ricken to fling Elwind after Elwind at the enemy from the safety of Nowi's protection and doubly guarded by Donnel's lance. The enemy doesn't really have a response, not even from their mages on the ground that used to give Nowi such trouble.

And why is that? Because without the wyverns up above to worry about, we can afford to take on a much more aggressive strategy from the ground, so our guys are punching through the ground troops with formidable efficiency. Led by Chrom, Frederick, and Lon'qu, different divisions of Shepherds are focusing on foot soldiers, cavalry, and mages respectively, and each group is doing its job well and keeping pace. This strategy keeps a lot of pressure off our tanks, which is great since they can focus on protecting our ranged units. For Robin's and my part, we're following Lon'qu for now so we can meet Tharja quickly before the mage-killers get ahold of her.

I think the novelty of Robin meeting someone from her past wore off somewhere between the third and fourth runs, so when she spots Tharja this time, she waves her over immediately and holds up a hand to prevent her from speaking the moment Tharja opens her mouth.

"Tharja, it's good to see you. We have a great deal of catching up to do, I'm sure, but right now I need to know you're with me. Are you?" Robin asks, striking a balance between sounding properly forceful and so tired I'm afraid she'll collapse before she finishes her thought.

Tharja, fortunately at least kind of understanding, says, "Of course. I'm always with you." She smiles evilly (I'm pretty sure that's the only way she knows how to smile, actually). "Always."

Robin blinks. "Right. Anyway, let's get moving."

Once Tharja is safely in our ranks, we switch over to Chrom's group to make sure Libra gets picked up as well. Luckily, it doesn't take too long before we run across him, and as a bonus, he doesn't have to save our asses this time around. Without the added benefit of air support, the Plegian regular military is really nothing special, it turns out.

As Libra draws close to our group, I decide to preempt the conversation a little bit to save some time and confusion. "Brother healer! Are you alright?" I ask.

Libra looks a little surprised that I immediately knew he was a man, but recovers quickly. "I am, thank you. My name is Libra. I'm relieved to see that the Exalted family has been kept safe thus far. When my colleagues and I learned that Exalt Emmeryn had been kidnapped, we set out at once to attempt to liberate her. However, only I survived the journey across these war-torn lands. Still, I wish to honor my brothers' sacrifices by joining you in rescuing the Exalt. Will you have my axe?"

Chrom steps forward. "Of course, we need all the help we can get. And a formidable wo– er, man of the cloth such as yourself will no doubt be a fine addition to the team. Welcome to the Shepherds, Libra."

Libra takes a knee on being spoken to by Chrom. "I live to serve the gods, and the family they have chosen to exalt and lead us, my lord."

"Uh, right. We should keep moving," Chrom says, looking something between embarrassed and flattered at being addressed in this way.

Alright, seems like it's been going well so far. The trio in the sky have been a huge help keeping the wyverns off our backs, and–

Oh hey, speak of the devil. They're touching down in front of us. Ricken and Donnel are quick to hop off Nowi, who doesn't waste a second transforming back into her human form and collapsing under the weight of the saddle on her. She flops facedown on the sand.

"Is she okay?" I ask Donnel and Ricken.

Donnel replies, "I think she's okay, just tuckered out like nothing else. I don't think she's used to flyin' for a real long time."

I notice Ricken's shaking a little bit. "W-well, I'm not used to it either! And I don't think I ever want to do that again."

I clap a hand on his shoulder to steady him (and myself; I'm really tired). "You guys did great up there. We can do this without sending you back up. Just keep an eye on the sky, Ricken. I don't think we've seen the last of the wyverns. As for you, Donny, I want you keeping an eye on Nowi until she's up and about again. Can you carry her?"

Donnel salutes dutifully. "Gotcha, Randall. No problem!" True to his word, he picks her up with no apparent difficulty and slings her over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes.

"Good. But stay out of combat if you can until she's alright. Maybe give her some vulnerary if you've got it," I add. He nods and runs off.

Okay, we haven't gotten this far in the battle too many times before, so we need to be careful. As I recall, those fortresses are gonna start dumping out reinforcements any minute now, so we can't be too hasty.

For the first time all day, though, this means we can set up a line ourselves. When they start sending forces to meet us, we'll already have our formation set and ready to repel the enemy. I'm relieved that we've kept our tanks out of the action as much as possible so far, because now we're definitely going to need them.

And right on cue, the fortresses open up and start spitting wyverns, soldiers, and mages out to meet us. Meanwhile, the wyvern rider reinforcements from the northwest finally arrive as well. While Virion and Ricken lead the ranged units in taking down the wyverns, Libra and I join the front lines to tank some magic hits before the two sides make melee contact.

It really hurts this time around. I think all this fatigue is making it harder to resist magical attacks, so even after just a few blasts from some comparatively weak wind and Flux spells, I'm really feeling the pain. Thankfully, with Libra on our side, he's quick to Ward me and heal up my wounds, making it a little easier on me.

We take our place behind the front line as the melee soldiers draw close, and I do the healing that I can when I'm in this state. With the headache and the fatigue, though, I'm not being the most helpful I've ever been. Libra's proving to be more and more of a blessing with every passing moment, it seems, since he's picking up my slack big time. He's also being a huge boon to the tanks by Warding them and keeping them in fighting shape. I'll have to have him show me that one sometime.

Soon, it's apparent that Plegia doesn't stand a chance of busting through our lines. The momentum is totally on our side now. We won't be tricked by crafty reinforcement placement, nor will we allow ourselves to be worn down, even as they thrown basically everything they have left at us. This is it. This is going to be our run.

"Everyone! Advance with caution!" Robin commands, signaling that the enemy has finally worn out its supply of bodies to cast in our path. All that remains now is General Campari and his elite guard, who frankly aren't looking so elite shaking up there like that.

To their credit, though, when Campari shouts, "Guards! Protect the courtyard at all costs!" and gestures forward, none of the eight of them hesitate to charge us. They have their bravery, for whatever that's worth.

Tactically speaking, though, it wasn't worth much; unoccupied now that the wyverns have been taken down, our mages can focus their fire on the uncovered, exposed soldiers bum-rushing us. Though a few show some talent with dodging, it doesn't stop three of them from being totally obliterated before they've even reached us.

As for those who do reach us, they don't fare a lot better. Frederick, Chrom, Lon'qu, Panne, and Gregor each take on one of the guards, and even if it had been one-on-one, things already wouldn't be looking good for these goons, not even accounting for all the support the Shepherds are providing in the form of healing and covering fire. It is, in a word, a slaughter.

Campari shouts at us as Chrom, Robin, Tharja, and I approach, "Even if it's down to the last man, I will fight to protect my capital and king. You'll never stop this execution, Ylissean scum!"

"All that loyalty toward a cause that doesn't deserve it. You serve a warmonger, General," Chrom says, pointing Falchion at him threateningly as Robin and Tharja both ready spells to sling at him.

"It is not for a knight to question his king's orders. It is for him to serve, and serve unflaggingly! You Ylisseans will know the pain your country has caused!" Campari retorts, readying his lance.

As Chrom charges at the general, Robin and Tharja loose their spells at him simultaneously. It would make for a more dramatic story to suggest that he stood half a chance, but really, his thick armor doesn't allow him to even try to dodge, so he has to take both hits, already injuring him seriously before Chrom even gets to him. Honestly, Chrom activating a Luna strike and stabbing him in the chest clean through his armor was just overkill. I end up feeling kind of silly for coming along in case anyone needed healing.

As the general hits the ground and Chrom sheaths Falchion, it finally hits me. We did it! Holy shit, we actually did it! All that's left is to–

Oh. Right. It's the part that I was the most worried about. The part that I was sure was going to make yet another run necessary. An icy tightness grips my stomach.

"Randall! That's the last of them. I'm sending up Cordelia," Robin says, and the ice twists around some more. I don't have it in me to say anything as Cordelia takes to the sky.

Oh my God. This is it. Please, let this end quickly. God damnit my head hurts.

 _You're still a liar. A liar and a fiend who plans to use the life of his supposed friend to cover his lie._

" _A couple? I'm inclined to doubt that we can do more than this last one."_

" _Exactly. We gotta do it this time."_

 _A world YOU plan to leave behind, and you alone. You're alone with your lies._

I think about Breakneck. Really think about it. How I was happy to let Cordelia be injured or killed back then too, because I thought I was in control and I was playing with forces I didn't have a grasp on. Watching her fly up toward the top of the spire, it's not hard to remember the scene, even if it was months ago. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Aversa doing something with her hands. She's summoning the Risen archers. All it would take is just letting it happen now. My part is done, isn't it?

The Rescue staff weighs heavily on my back.

" _I trust you now to only use it if you really know it's both safe and necessary."_

She trusts me with it now. Even after what happened at Breakneck, Lissa put her faith in me. Robin did. Did I really learn nothing back then? I have to act as if this is the only chance I'll ever have, because it might be.

I frantically get out the Rescue staff and start running the calculations to move both Cordelia and Hyperion. It's gonna be a big Rescue, but I have to do this. I point the staff.

Come on, come on, think of where she's going to be, look at how Hyperion moves in the air, the natural lifts and drops, think, think, think. Don't pay attention to all those flashing lights going off, just focus! Now!

I release the spell, and am instantly bowled over as Hyperion crashes into me and flings Cordelia off his back and squarely onto my chest, knocking the wind out of me something fierce. If I weren't already so tired that I'm semi-functioning, I'd have probably enjoyed that a little bit.

It's almost enough to distract everyone from the volley of arrows that convened at the precise spot I just warped her from. And from the several dozen Risen archers now strewn about the courtyard, all of whom are already preparing to take another shot, this time at Emmeryn. Well, except the fair few that aim squarely at Chrom. As Lissa and the others draw closer to the courtyard as well, a couple take aim at her too. Looks like all the Exalted family members are targets.

Once she gets her bearings enough to realize what's happened, Cordelia scrambles off me. As she's helping me up, I can't resist cracking the single worst falling-related joke in the entire world: "Nice of you to drop in."

"What just happened?" she asks.

I nod toward the Risen. "You were almost Swiss-cheesed."

She's silent for a moment as she takes in the sight of the arrows all newly scattered through the courtyard. "I see. Thank you then, Randall."

I manage a smile. "Now we're even."

She looks back at me. "Yes, I suppose we are."

Meanwhile, looks like it's time for the dickhead to gloat. "Well now, isn't this a reversal of fortunes? Even if my archers missed your little pega-pony, they won't miss their new marks. And just in case you want to try any new teleportation shenanigans…" He snaps, and a couple of the archers trained on Emm turn to me instead. "So we'll be having no more of that."

It's amazing how quickly the atmosphere changed. Just moments before, the Shepherds were fighting their way through a hellish onslaught with everything they had, and they managed to handily defeat a decorated general with no casualties. Seconds ago, they ascended the steps with every bit of triumph owed to a victorious army. But with just a few flashes of light, everything has done a complete reversal, and suddenly we are all hostages. It's unreal.

"Gangrel. What is it you want? If all you wanted was Emm dead, you'd have had them fire already," Chrom growls.

"Well, first off, I'd like you to beg. Beg for her life, beg for yours, beg for the lives of everyone standing here. Because these boys are good enough to take down at least half of them before you could so much as turn around to start running," Gangrel says with a grin.

"I'd rather give up my life before I beg for it from you," Chrom replies.

"Tut tut, boy. You weren't listening. It's _everyone's_ lives you're begging for. 'Twould be such a pity if you came all this way, suffered so much, only to lose your sister at the last moment just because you were a tiny bit too headstrong. Think of all the lives you've already taken. Was it all for pride, then? You really are a hypocrite."

Chrom's fists tighten at his side, but he doesn't say anything else.

"How about the rest of you lot? Anyone want to put their pride aside for a moment and get on their knees to save their Exalt?" Gangrel calls to the Shepherds at large. He's enjoying this too much.

Frederick steps forward without hesitation. "King Gangrel. Everything I have, and everything I am, I would gladly give it up for the Exalted family. Including my pride." He drops to his knees with the _clang_ of metal on stone. "Please, I beseech you, spare my lord and my ladies. You may have my life if you so desire, but please allow my lieges to live today."

Chrom looks thunderstruck. "Frederick…"

Gangrel cackles. "Oh my, that was quite heartfelt. I rather enjoyed that. I mean that sincerely, a fine job. But is he the only one who wants to step up?"

I'm surprised when the next movement comes from Maribelle pushing her way to the front of the group. She too falls to her knees. "King Gangrel. We have met before. On your orders, Plegian soldiers killed almost everyone I knew and loved from my home. Those of us who survived that massacre will carry that burden to our dying day. I won't deny that I hate you with every fiber of my being. But if begging for the Exalt's life is what it takes to save her, then I will not hesitate. So please, stay your hand. I beg of you." I can't see her expression, but it's not hard to imagine it.

Gangrel grins pointily. "So, little Mari Contrari has come back to pay her old pal Gangrel a visit. We did have such fun during your last stay in my country, it's true. And I see that mouthy priest is still kicking around with you. The pair of you just couldn't stay away, huh?"

"I'm not a priest. I just think the robe is cool," I say.

He glares at me. "Quite. In any case, I like it. You hate me, and you aren't afraid to say it. That's how war should be. Honest and brutal. Diplomacy is the stuff of weaklings. However, sometimes one must allow just a touch of dealmongering if one wishes to get ahead." He pauses. "I grow tired of this. Oh, get up, you two. It's pathetic." They both stand and rejoin the group.

"So what is it you really want, Gangrel?" Chrom says, his rage just barely held back at this point after watching his retainer and one of his closest friends plead for his life.

He holds up a couple fingers. "Two things. First, lay down your sword. Total surrender, no concessions, no terms. Second, I want the Fire Emblem. Give me those things, and no one else needs to die today."

Chrom's enraged expression cracks a little bit with confusion. "I… What? The Fire Emblem?"

"Yes. And if you don't hand it over, right now, I'll have my archers perforate your sisters, your friends, and your own thick skull for good measure," Gangrel sneers.

Chrom pauses. "I…"

Robin interrupts, "Chrom! You can't trust him!" I can see her looking around frantically, searching for another way for Emmeryn to escape. For my part, I'm just praying Emm is as deceptive as I need her to be for this to work.

"I know I can't! But what other choice is there to make? Even if he plans to kill us either way, don't I owe it to Emm to do everything I can to try to save her, no matter how futile it seems?" Chrom asks desperately.

"Chrom, there's always a way out. You must see that. I just… have to figure it out," Robin says, her own fatigue showing as she finishes her sentence.

"Robin… I know what has to happen. Gangrel, you win. Everyone, lay–"

"Wait!" Emmeryn calls, and even though she's all the way up there I can hear her perfectly. Yes, yes, she's going to speak! "Gangrel, I want a say in this decision. I am still the Exalt of Ylisse, after all, not my brother." It's pretty clear that she's amplifying her voice somehow. How far is her voice carrying? Is this how she manages to spread her message of pacifism so far and wide?

"You'll have a tough time ruling from up there, or in the grave, Exalt," Gangrel retorts.

"I think you'll find I can do plenty. Is there no hope that we can reach a peaceful resolution? I wish to end the hostilities; that's all I've ever wanted between our countries," Emmeryn says.

"The peace of victors, you mean. When the war ended between our countries, with Plegia strangled with the bodies of the dead and drowning in blood, only then were you satisfied to end the war!" Gangrel shouts.

"You know that I, a mere child of less than ten years, had no clout in those days. From the moment it was in my power, I worked to steer us away from war. And you're wrong if you think Ylisse didn't suffer as well. Some communities never recovered from losing most of their able-bodied adults, and many starved even when the war was finished. The path to prosperity has been long-fought and hard-earned, as you no doubt know. You had the mantle of a leader thrust on you only when peace had finally been negotiated, but you oversaw Plegia's recovery with phenomenal success. Would you really leave that behind just to start another war?"

"The war never ended for us, you condescending harlot," Gangrel spits. "The suffering never ended. And in our hearts, we all know who is at fault. It's you! It's all of Ylisse!"

"Wrong again. It's the fault of men and women already more than a decade dead. You and I never chose war back then, which makes your desire to choose it now all the more baffling. Now, I wish to choose peace. Will you choose it with me?"

"I will have the peace my people deserve! The peace of victors! Now choose! The Emblem or your lives? You cannot have both!" Gangrel borderline-screeches.

Chrom interrupts, "The Emblem! You can have it! There may someday be a crisis where it may have helped, but if all you need is the Emblem to think you're a victor, then I'm happy to let you win."

Gangrel grimaces at Emmeryn. "Well, Exalt?"

She's silent for a long moment. Is this it? "Thank you, Chrom. I know what I must do to stop this." She steps forward. "Plegians, your ruler has turned down my offer for peace. I can see why he would; you have already taken our capital and captured me, Ylisse's Exalt. It may appear to many of you that victory is already in your grasp. But the war is far from over if you would choose the path of violence and conquest. If you'll choose peace with me, not a single soul must perish… after today." She takes another step forward. Come on, Emm, you've still got the sheet, don't you? "Let mine be the last blood that must be spilled in this war."

Chrom realizes what she means to do. "Emm, wait! No! NO!" The archers don't stop him from running for the spire, as Gangrel seems to know he can't possibly make it in time. Meanwhile, the king is grinning like a madman at his own realization of her plan.

She falls. No slow-motion, no dramatic music, just the panicked screams of Lissa, Maribelle, and others filling my ears and spiking the pain in my head. I keep my eyes firmly trained on her, trying to see any sign of the wind magic being used. Her hands are folded tightly in front of her, so I can't see if she's holding anything.

She hits the ground. There! Was that it? Did I see a flash of light, or was that just my imagination?

It doesn't matter yet; we need to get her, whether she's alive or not, and get the fuck out of Dodge. Things are already moving very quickly, and even though Gangrel hasn't ordered the Risen to fire yet, I can tell he's gonna be thinking about it here in a second. I don't think I have it in me to do another Rescue in this state, though. I turn to the panicking Maribelle and shake her shoulders.

"Maribelle. Maribelle! Listen to me!" I shout, eventually snapping her out of it just enough that she looks at me. "Rescue Emmeryn's body. I can't do it."

"But, but I've never Rescued anyone successfully before. Where's Lis–" Maribelle says, distraught.

"No time! Lissa's in no state to focus enough to do it! Just do it!" I interrupt, thrusting the Rescue staff into her hands.

She swallows. "O-okay." She raises Rescue staff and points it at Emmeryn, then lets loose the spell. Fortunately, even with her mind no doubt all over the place, and even with such a lack of experience, she focuses enough to get Emm over to us safely.

I turn to Maribelle, half-delirious with relief and fatigue. "You did it, Maribelle!"

She's pretty clearly shocked. "I… I did…"

I shift my attention to Emmeryn on the ground in front of us. She looks… pretty bad. I can't tell if she should look worse than this after falling from that height (I don't actually have much experience watching people fall from cliffs), so I can't really tell if she used the sheet or if she even still had it. Her ribs are definitely smashed, and there's a good bit of blood pouring out of her head as well. Still, there's a chance she's alive. Even if I can't Rescue in this state, I think I can still try and Mend her. I pull out my Mend staff and point it at her, but then reconsider. If Gangrel sees us heal her immediately, then no one will believe that she's actually dead, and the whole ruse will have been for nothing. She has to hold out for long enough for us to get some distance between us and them. I settle for covertly pouring just a little vulnerary down her throat and praying it keeps her going for long enough.

I set aside the Mend staff for the moment and lift Emm off the ground, looking for what I can do with her now, because my tired ass sure as hell can't carry her for long. Fortunately, Maribelle has already remounted her horse and is getting ready to get the hell out of here. She doesn't say anything as I put the Exalt's limp body on her horse; she just holds one arm behind her back to wrap around her and keep her in place behind her. She nods at me.

Basilio and his men arrive, disrupting things just enough that the Risen archers don't fire just yet, instead waiting on new orders from Gangrel. The Feroxi cover our escape as we start to book it west instead of east like Robin had wanted, but like I always figured would happen. There are some cries behind us as we go, and I assume that means the Feroxi are taking some casualties to cover for our escape, but there's nothing we can do at this point. I did what I could, and for once I actually feel like I mean that.

Oh wait, not yet. Still have to make sure that Emmeryn is actually alive. Now that we've gotten away a little bit from the enemy, I stumble-run up to Maribelle and tug on her boot. She looks down at me, eyes stained with tears.

"Hang on a sec, Maribelle. Lemme see the Exalt," I say, and once she stops, I pull Emmeryn down from Fleur-de-lis onto the sand.

"Randy, what on earth are you doing?" Maribelle asks, dismounting from the horse herself.

"Trying something. It just might work," I say, getting out my Mend staff. Please work, please work, please work.

Though it makes me lightheaded even to try, I will the magic to leave the staff and enter her broken body. Come on, please, give me this one.

Yes. Yes! Holy shit, yes! Her wounds are closing! Her chest is bending back into shape! Holy Jesus, thank you God! When I'm finished, her body is, but for the bloodstains on her skin and clothes, the same as it was before. It worked.

When I look at Maribelle, her hands are clasped over her mouth, and the tears flow freely. I think I might be crying too; my vision is blurring with tears of my own. Oh, wait, hang on, no, it's just regular blurring. Damn, that healing really took it out of me. I really should have had Maribelle do it. Am I…?

Oh no, no no no, I can't be, not now! Not when we're so close…

* * *

" _Send a message to General Mustafa in the Midmire. Tell him the Ylisseans were spotted moving west. Have his men put on high alert. I want those cretins brought back here. In body bags!" the king commands a wyvern rider from his personal guard._

" _Yes, Your Majesty. At once," the rider says, taking off and flying at breakneck pace to the west._

 _Gangrel steps over the bodies of the Plegian and Feroxi soldiers alike. Though he should feel as though he has won, he doesn't. He killed the Exalt, didn't he? It wasn't his first priority of the day, but compared to what the Ylisseans lost, he came out on top by nearly any metric (not counting the number of troops lost, but frankly there are still plenty to go around)._

 _So why does this victory feel so hollow?_

 _He comes across the body of General Campari. The man's incompetence led to their much larger force losing to an exhausted, desert-scorched group of whelps from the coddled east. On their home turf, no less. How could a single commander botch such an easy job? He gives the thick armor a sharp kick._

 _To his surprise, the middle-aged general groans faintly. He's alive? Gangrel is quick to pull out his healing staff and put it to work. Sure enough, the man's wounds close. He's still unconscious, but he may yet live._

 _He whistles, summoning a cavalier from his personal guard. He points to the general. "Get this man inside. It seems he doesn't even know how to die correctly."_

" _Yes, Your Majesty."_

* * *

" _Aventine, could you come in here a moment?" Mustafa says as calmly as he can, but he can't keep the shaking from tinging his voice with fear._

" _Mustafa? What is it?" Aventine asks as he enters the room. He notices the small sheet of paper held in the general's hand._

" _It seems the Ylisseans are going to try to escape through the west. That can only mean they intend to take the Midmire, don't you agree?" Mustafa asks._

 _Aventine begins to understand. "Then… the worst has happened?"_

 _Mustafa chuckles nervously. "The worst… perhaps not. We all heard the Exalt's words, after all. Maybe they can take root in some of the people. Take the spirit out of this meaningless war. But it is almost certainly the end of me."_

" _Mustafa, no! You can't mean that!" Aventine protests._

" _They will come here. Of that there can be little doubt. And I have here the order to stop them at all costs. It seems it is finally my turn to die for king and country." The general leans back in his chair, chuckling humorlessly._

" _You could still come with us, Mustafa! You and the family!" Aventine is nearly begging._

" _You know I cannot. Even if my family's safety was assured in the short term, it runs the risk of exposing everything we have worked for so long to accomplish. If an otherwise loyal and steadfast general suddenly turns tail and runs at the sight of an undermanned, morally deflated army, that draws undue attention to my affairs, and when the investigation begins, it's only a matter of time. Time you'll need to accomplish our goals. No, it can't be done."_

" _If they're so weak, then why not… actually defeat them?" Aventine asks. "I mean, couldn't you?"_

 _Mustafa shakes his head. "I don't know. Maybe. Probably. But that's not the point, Aventine. If we crush the Shepherds now, the balance will be shifted irrevocably. Gangrel will be all but unstoppable if we let things get too far out of hand. He's already powerful, doubly so with that witch at his side, but if we deliver the Fire Emblem to him, with the prince's head in a bag to boot, the Plegian army will have no reason to turn on him."_

" _So you let them win. But why must you die yourself?"_

 _Mustafa is quiet for a moment. "Their Exalt has shown the people that sacrifice has meaning. Hopefully, I can show the Shepherds the same thing. For my men. For my family. And for our cause."_

 _Aventine can't deny the tears pooling in his eyes. "Mustafa, I don't want to do this alone."_

 _The general stands and places a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder. "You won't be. Those who fight for our cause will always stand by you. And when someday you achieve our goals and bring about true peace on this continent, I'll be watching from the next life. And for as long as you never forget me, I will never have died."_

 _Aventine nods slowly. The men move at the same time to embrace each other. After a moment, Mustafa says, "Please, tell my wife. Tell Mikkel. I love them, more than a dullard axeslinger like me could ever find the words to say."_

" _You were never a dullard. You were brighter than any of us," Aventine says as the pair let go of each other._

" _Well, I suppose that could be considered a matter of opinion. In any case, there isn't much time left. The Shepherds will arrive before long, and you must be away before then. Duke Osprey is waiting for you at his villa."_

" _How am I to get there, Mustafa? If the Shepherds are already inbound, I can't take a horse, after all."_

" _Very true. It's time I revealed my last secret to you. My ace in the hole," Mustafa says, smiling mischievously._

" _What do you mean?" Aventine asks._

 _Mustafa turns to the shadowy corner behind him. "Alright, enough with the theatrics. Are you ready to go?"_

 _Aventine turns as well and yelps on seeing the man he has somehow missed this entire time. Though the black armor covering him head to toe helped in that regard._

" _Yes, general. I'm prepared," the man says, his voice muffled by the visor of his helmet. He steps forward extremely stiffly, his arms locked at his sides._

" _Excellent. And I trust Phila is making arrangements to transport my family to Osprey Villa?"_

" _So far as I know, it was to be her first priority on release from confinement. Or so it was communicated to her by our man at the prison."_

 _Mustafa nods. "Thank you, my friend." He turns to Aventine. "Godspeed, Aventine. We're all counting on you," Mustafa says._

 _Though this new man makes Aventine feel distinctly uncomfortable, he pulls it together for long enough to say goodbye to his old friend. "I wish you could be there to see it. The new world we'll create."_

 _Mustafa smiles. "It is enough for me to know that you will make it, and that my boy will grow up in it."_

 _The man in black says, "Lord Aventine. It's time to go."_

* * *

I'm awake.

Now I'm really awake. I shake my head and try to get my bearings. I'm riding a horse. Well, riding passenger, anyway. Someone's arms are holding the reins on either side of me. I look behind me to see who's holding the reins and see it's Stahl, who looks at me when he notices me stirring.

"How long was I out?" I ask urgently. Or as urgently as I can when I'm already on the brink of falling back to whatever mini-coma just took hold of me.

"About ten minutes. Maribelle's just up ahead; she had me pick you up so we could focus on getting out of here. We're doing our best to keep a move on," Stahl replies. I sigh with relief. Thank God it wasn't a long enough time that something crazy might have happened. "Especially since it seems like everyone is in a bit of a panic. I don't know what happened to you, but Robin was a little out of it as well, and without her guidance not a lot of people know what to do. We're kind of spread all over the place."

Well okay, nevermind then. "And where's she?"

"I mean, she's technically awake, but she's so exhausted I'd say it hardly counts. I think commanding the troops through such a crazy ordeal took it out of her. Not to mention… you know, losing the Exalt." So it's not common knowledge among the Shepherds yet. "She's behind us making sure everyone else has gotten out," Stahl says.

"Okay, as long as she's safe, and as long as everyone made it out alright. Would you mind if I stayed on Fennec for a while? To be honest, I'm not a hundred percent confident in my ability to keep myself conscious," I say weakly.

"Yeah, don't worry. Just hang onto me. Get some rest. Maybe even sleep if you can. We're hoping Basilio's agents will be able to get us out of here, but while we look for them, you should try to relax. You look pretty strung out."

I have to admit, it's tempting, even in this tenuous situation. If we really have to keep battling even more today, I'll be in no state to help when I'm like this. But even so, if we can't keep an eye on everyone, it's not a safe call. I remember how determined I was to stay conscious even when Maribelle and Lissa had to put my chest back together after Aversa got ahold of it, all those months ago. If I can stick it out through that, surely I can manage to stay awake a little longer.

Is that a raincloud?

* * *

 _I hate rain. One of the best things about living in the desert is that we so rarely have to deal with it. But it seems like whenever it rains, it absolutely pours. Even safely under the roof of the compound, the air still has that acidic tinge to it that stings the back of my throat. And in the rain, I can never shake the feeling that someone is standing right behind me. Maybe it's because of the sound of raindrops hitting the ground behind me, or maybe it's the thicker quality that rain gives the air, but it's a dreadful feeling._

 _And even here in the compound, without the rain itself falling on me, I still have that feeling. It makes me think of that–_

" _A nice day out," the voice I least wanted to hear whispers from somewhere. I can't hold back a small scream, but then I hold my breath, waiting for it to say something else._

…

 _Nothing. Did I imagine it? I allow myself to breath again. I need to see Master Validar, even for just a minute._

 _I have to consciously keep myself from running as I go down the hallway to his quarters, but when I get close, I hear muttering that makes me stop short._

" _Little Exalt Emmy, such an impressive speech. Impressive, impressive, made an impression, don't you think?"_

 _I can't hear the voice very clearly, but there's no mistake. That hooded… person is in there, talking to Master Validar. I can faintly make out him saying something, but he must be at the far end of the room, as I can't understand what he's saying._

" _Well, it wouldn't be fun if your enemy didn't have skill, right? If you have all the cards, it's not a very interesting game…" Master Validar says something, the tone suggesting a question. "Yes, that's why. Has to be interesting." I reach out to the doorknob, unsure of whether or not to enter._

 _Master Validar says something else in reply. Then the hooded person's tone changes, taking on a downright bone-chilling edge, and they say, "I didn't ask for your opinion, Validar. When I want it, I'll let you know." If it weren't the same voice, I'd hardly believe it was the same person. The hooded person loses their typical meandering way of speaking, and each word cuts through the air, even through the thick door._

 _My hand freezes on the doorknob. I can't tell if I need to act to protect my master, or if getting involved would just make things worse. I definitely don't want to see that person either way._

 _Master Validar says something else, more quietly this time. The hooded person replies, "I want things to be interesting. That's all. Everything, so boring, boring, boring." Neither of them says anything for a moment. "Speaking of, I want to see about shaking things up. See which other apples are ripe to fall from the tree. I will see you soon, very soon."_

 _I wait outside the door for something, anything to happen. A minute or so passes in silence, my hand still lingering on the doorknob. Suddenly, the door is pulled open, and my heart skips a beat until I realize it was Master Validar opening the door._

" _Damnation!" he exclaims, then takes a breath as he recognizes me. "Ah, Aversa, it's only you. You startled me." He looks considerably worse for wear. His face is pale, beaded with sweat, and his bagged and sunken eyes suggest a lack of sleep. It also becomes apparent after only a second or two that he hasn't bathed in some time. I knew that he has been out of sorts for a while now, but it appears to have worsened recently._

" _Master, are you alright? You look unwell," I ask, trying to peer around him into the room and see where the hooded person has gone._

" _I am fine. I have simply had a difficult time adjusting ever since we were thwarted at Ylisstol. But it is of little concern. We serve a divine purpose, after all, and a few sleepless nights are a small price to pay," he says with a hint of exasperation._

" _Forgive me, but what are you adjusting to? I don't understand." It seems as though he's actively placing himself in my line of sight so that I can't see past him into the room, but I don't want to be too obvious about my desire to peer in._

" _It is no matter to anyone but me and our lord," he replies curtly. "Is there anything you need, Aversa?"_

 _I shake my head. "Nothing, Master, except that I wish to know what you would have me do next to help our cause." It looks as if I have no choice but to give up on seeing into the room._

 _His eyes narrow. "I believe you have done quite enough. Even with a surprise wave of dozens of Risen, you couldn't manage to best the Shepherds or even kill their leader, who had already been captured by Gangrel and was standing atop a lone spire practically begging to be put down. I know that child Gangrel is incompetent, and his generals doubly so, but the battle was so lopsided in our favor that I am baffled at how you managed to muddle it up."_

 _The words sting in my ears, making me wince. "M-master, I–"_

" _I do not have time to play nursemaid to the feelings of a dependent child incapable of carrying out the simplest of tasks," he snaps._

" _It was not so simple, Master Validar!" I can't help but protest. Of course, this has been on my mind as well. "That healer of theirs, that Randall, he knew what I was going to do! He acted too quickly for it to make sense any other way! He's read my mind, or something like it, and it gives them an advantage over us! I even sent a surprise wave of Risen to dispatch them before they got to Golgotha, and they defeated them handily, as if they had been waiting for them! There is something going on here!"_

" _If you are trying to convince me that it is in fact YOU that is the source of the problem, you are doing a fine job of it. It seems that you are unable to keep any secrets hidden. If I didn't believe in the loyalty you've shown so far, I might go as far as to suspect you of leaking the information yourself," Master Validar retorts._

 _I'm caught off-guard. "N-no, I would never! Master, you know I wouldn't–"_

" _I will think on it. Begone from my sight, Aversa. Perhaps you could set your mind to how to prevent the Ylisseans from escaping and rallying support. Or perhaps you should avoid thinking too much in general, else we risk that wretched priest learning all our strategies once again," he hisses, slamming the door and just barely missing my face with it._

 _I manage to get a few steps from the door before the pressure building in my throat threatens to burst. I do my best not to cry. Crying doesn't help anything. It definitely doesn't help Master Validar. Why am I always letting him down?_

 _It's that Randall. He's the source of everything that's gone wrong for me in the last few months. He keeps anticipating everything or otherwise getting inside my head._

 _I still haven't forgotten what he said. That I'm being brainwashed. He tried to convince me that it was Master Validar that was doing it. But then today, Master Validar suggests that it might be that I'm the one sharing information with Randall. Could that be true? My head does start to hurt whenever I think for too long about what he told me. Is he hexing me somehow?_

 _Either way, the fact remains that I've been more of a liability than an asset for a long time now, and the pressure of trying to get Master Validar to treat me like he used to it getting to me. I didn't used to be like this._

 _I feel like I'm losing my mind._

* * *

Eventually, we make it far enough west to get to what I'm assuming is the Midmire. I had never really given much thought to what the Midmire actually is when I played the game in the past, but as we have fled further and further west and the ground's unevenness has assumed a sort of strange regularity, it's become increasingly clear that those tall mounds that separate the aisles of the battlefield are actually the half-buried gigantic spine of the ancient Grima. While we were at Golgotha, the ground was high enough that the bones were totally underground, but here in the mire the ground dips enough that the bones are exposed. We've been traveling for at least an hour. It never hit me before just how unbelievably _leviathan_ Grima is, but as we ride past increasingly imposing vertebrae, I'm hit with that sense of cosmic smallness that reminds me of the first time I saw a chart comparing Earth to the sun, and then the sun to other stars. The idea that Lucina ever stood one-to-one against something like this makes my gut churn.

I shake my head to clear it. We won't be able to go any further west from here without attracting Plegian attention, and if we can manage to bust through here, the rest of our trip back north should be through area we've already cleared out. This is our best shot at getting out of here.

The first step is to find Robin. We need a plan to get out of here without losing anyone, and it needs to be solid before one or both of us loses consciousness again. According to Stahl, she should be behind us, so we head back a ways, trying to see anything through this freakish and dramatically well-timed downpour.

When eventually we do find her, near the back of the pack with Tharja at her side, she looks well and truly miserable. Her hood is up to keep the rain off her, and Tharja has her arm around her shoulder to support her. As we draw close, I hop off Fennec.

"Robin, what's the plan?" I ask.

She glares at me. "What are you talking about? We need to go back! We need just one more run. I can work it out, I know I can."

Oh, I see. She doesn't know either. Maribelle hasn't told anyone yet, I guess. That might be for the best, actually. We don't want the Shepherds to be looking too happy as we make our escape, after all. It's kinda fucked up, but it's true. We can tell everyone once we're safely on the road.

"Hey Stahl, and Tharja too, can you give us a minute?" I ask. Stahl nods and rides ahead, but Tharja stands firm.

"I'm not going anywhere. I just got Robin back, so I'm not letting her out of my sight," Tharja says. "Especially when she's in this state."

"Tharja, please," Robin says. "I will be fine. Can you go up ahead and make sure everyone is staying together?"

The struggle is evident on her face. On one hand, she really isn't ready to let Robin out of her sight, but disobeying a direct request from her doesn't sit well with her either obviously. Only after a few very tense seconds does she finally relent and skulk off toward the others up ahead.

Once she's comfortably out of earshot, Robin turns to me and shoves my shoulder, which in my current state takes a significant effort not to fall over from. "What the _hell_ have you been doing? We need to be going _back_ , while there's still time!"

I keep my volume a little more in check as I lean in to tell her, "Robin, _Emmeryn isn't dead_. There's nothing to go back for."

Her eyes widen. "She's not? Then, the magic sheet worked?" A disbelieving smile breaks out on her face.

I shrug, feeling my own smile coming on despite the dreary environment. "I don't know if it was the sheet or if it was just luck, but my staff was able to put her back together again just fine. She should be with Maribelle right now. And before you ask," I interrupt as Robin opens her mouth, "no, I didn't let any Plegians see me heal her. The little ruse she pulled is intact."

"It is? Oh my _gods_ , that's great!" Her hands grab onto my upper arms. "We have everything in place, then. We just need to get the hell out of here. Are all the others up ahead?"

"Should be. But we're not out of the woods yet. We need to break through the forces stationed at the Midmire here. It's the surest path to a safe retreat," I remind her.

"Right, right." She lets go of me. "I remember seeing that on the map. So that's Basilio's backup plan. Alright, we can make this work. As long as everyone stays together, we can do this." Looks like she's already back in her tactician mode. We set off to rejoin the others.

"One other thing, as a heads-up. I maaay have fallen asleep for a little while there after I healed Emmeryn. It's likely our save point moved as well, but frankly I don't want to find out. In either case, the events of the battle are probably set in stone now," I say as we walk.

Her expression hardens a little. "Randall, we can't be that careless. It's good this time because the battle went our way, but if you'd set Emmeryn's death in stone by passing out trying to heal a corpse, we'd be in deep trouble right now."

"I know, I know. It's not like I meant to. But I had to try. Everything else had been going our way to that point. And I don't think we had another run in us, honestly. And even then, we don't know the rules of this power yet. Maybe the save point is still with you waking up this morning," I reply.

She considers for a moment. "You may be right. About the power, and about our ability to handle another battle. Even this run has been a stretch. We need to be more careful about what fights we pick in the future," she muses. "I hate to admit it, but we got lucky."

We shut our traps about respawning stuff as we get closer to the others. It seems like everyone is pretty worn out, which I'm sure is the result of a lot of things piled on top of each other. The battle was hard-fought and longer than any battle we've endured before, we had to fight in the heat of the desert and are now slogging through a rainy mire, and on top of all that, as far as they're aware we lost the only thing we came all this way for. It makes me feel like shit to withhold the truth from them, but it's only for a little longer, and we need to focus on the fight ahead anyway.

Fortunately, most of the others have pulled together to escape as one, but a few of our more volatile members have charged off ahead toward the Plegian encampment, which is distressing. Among the missing are Chrom (unsurprising), Vaike, Sully, Lissa (she went after Chrom), and Frederick (I assume to keep an eye on the other Exalted siblings). Everyone else is accounted for.

"Alright," Robin tells the group once we reach the spine itself, "if we're going to get everyone out alive, we need to keep our heads. Focus on keeping each other safe. Sumia and Cordelia, take Randall and Libra and search out the ones who went ahead; heal them up if they need it. Maribelle, could you, um, hand over the Exalt to Donnel, please?" With as much reverence as possible, Donnel takes Emmeryn down from Fleur-de-lis and holds her bridal style. If he notices her breathing, he doesn't say anything. "You, Stahl, and Panne will be the advance party of the group. I'll be on with Maribelle on her horse providing covering fire, and Ricken, you'll do the same on Stahl's. Everyone else, keep close to Kellam and Gregor. Donnel, how's Nowi?"

Nowi stands next to him, looking a little out of it still. She raises a hand. "I'm okay, just kinda pooped. And sad."

Robin nods. "Only assume dragon form if you have to, then. Today took it out of you. Gregor and Kellam, make sure everyone is keeping up and staying together. Don't fall too far behind us in the advance party. If we're approached from behind by anything, I want Nowi to transform and give three short roars. Everyone clear?" We all respond in the affirmative. "Good. Let's move!"

Cordelia finds me within a second or two. "Randall, you're with me. Libra is considerably lighter than you, and I trust Hyperion with the weight more than I do Kestrel."

I nod. "Alright, let's get to it."

I try not to actively enjoy getting to ride with one arm around Cordelia's waist as we take off. I'll let you guess how well that worked. What's slightly less appealing is her long red hair blowing straight into my face, obstructing both my vision and ability to breathe normally. Thankfully, once we get up to what I guess you could call cruising altitude, the hair calms down a little and I can see.

We examine the aisles toward the east side of the battlefield while Sumia and Libra handle the west. At one point, a few wyvern riders come after us, but even with my dead weight changing up her balance, Cordelia handles them nicely. It's also helpful that Ricken sends a few Elwind blades our way from the ground to keep the enemy from synchronizing their attacks in any way. From there, Cordelia's agility advantage proves more helpful than the enemy's blind speed in this rain.

In the meantime, I'm straining my eyes to try and find any of our friends down below. Looks like a whole lot of Plegians to me. Wait, what are they doing in that eastmost aisle? They're fighting someone! Who is that down there…? I see blue. Did Chrom go off on his own to take the fight to the Plegians? That idiot.

"Cordelia, someone's down there," I say, tapping her shoulder and pointing down to the aisle. She nods and shoots down closer to the person in question.

Hang on, that's a horse. That's Frederick! Why the hell is he off on his own? I'd think he would stick with Chrom and Lissa for sure, but they have to be at least a few aisles farther down the battlefield. Maybe he's acting as a decoy to keep them off the others for as long as he can.

In any case, he seems to be doing pretty much alright. Even when it's five on one like it is now, his presence dominates the scene. Before we even get down to him, five has become four thanks to an absolutely savage blow he lays on one of the mercs attacking him.

Even so, we want to help out as well, so Cordelia swoops low and stabs at near-freefall speed through one of the others before pulling back up, wrenching her lance out as we lift off again. We pull around quickly, then dive back in for another attack. While Frederick is focused on another merc, Hyperion shoots between two lancers, and while she stabs the one on the right, I decide to help as well and take a swing with my staff at the one on the left. The sound isn't unlike an aluminum bat being swung at full speed against a metal support beam. It also jars my arm something awful, so I decide that even though it might have helped, I won't be doing that again.

However, as we come around this time, we see that the wyvern riders that had been fighting us have also spotted Frederick down there and are looking to make an aerial strike of their own. Before we can get to him, one takes advantage of his distraction with the remaining ground soldier by diving down behind him and taking a swing at his lower back. The blow knocks Frederick clean off his horse, sending him crashing to the ground in a heap.

As the rider that hit him comes back up, Cordelia stabs down at him from above, mortally wounding him and knocking him off his mount. Before the other wyvern rider can make his move on Frederick, Cordelia cocks her arm back and launches a javelin that had been strapped to Hyperion's side down at her target. It misses the rider but hits the wyvern's wing, sending it off course and making it crash into one of the vertebrae. Rider and mount together crash to the dirt on top of the remaining ground soldier.

Holy shit is Cordelia good.

We touch down, and while Cordelia heads over to the crashed rider to make sure the soldier, the rider, and his mount have all been dispatched, I book it over to Frederick, staff in hand.

Before I can even raise my staff, though, he holds up a hand to stop me, then pushes himself to a sitting position with his arms.

"No time! I already drank vulnerary, and the wounds are closed. Just get me back on my horse. I will recover when there are no Plegians left in our way," he growls. I check his back just to make sure, and like he said, despite the missing armor chunk that had been knocked away, the skin underneath is sealed. Secretly I'm relieved; I don't know if I could handle healing anyone right now without putting my consciousness in danger, and that is the _last_ thing we need.

Cordelia has made quick work of the enemy, so she comes to help me get Frederick squared away. He handles pulling himself off the ground mostly by his arms supported on our shoulders, and when he walks to his horse, he walks with a limp. Seems like his legs must hurt like hell still. Even so, all he really needs from us is to get his leg (and the heavy-as-hell armor that adorns it) over the horse and into the stirrup. Other than that, the juggernaut looks more or less as undaunted as always.

"I will ride north, but the pair of you should head over the bones and rejoin the others posthaste," Frederick says. We nod and waste no time getting back in the air.

As we pass over the vertebrae into the west aisles, it looks like the rest of the team has convened on Chrom's position. The others are all there as well, and the Plegian forces are dwindling. It seems that Robin has been leading them well.

Down on the field, it's evident that Chrom is fighting with the ferocity of a wild animal. He's right on the front line, slashing with wide, unmeasured strokes. If the enemy weren't so clearly terrified of him, they probably wouldn't have a difficult time beating him, but fortunately, intimidation is a factor, so they are all held back by their own pants-shitting fear.

As we touch down looking to help out as well, a booming voice cuts through the rain and the din of battle. "Warriors of Plegia! Stand down immediately! That's an order!"

On command, the remaining Plegians drop their weapons and back up as quickly as they can. Out of the obscurity of the rain steps a man dressed in armor that looks like it's made of bone. He's bald, he's got a long beard, and he carries a massive axe. It's General Mustafa, AKA the best bad guy in the game. I was actually hoping we could get through here quickly enough to avoid having to fight him. Plus, I still have some lingering questions about why he apparently commanded Vasto to intercept us at Breakneck and why he had a deal with Aventine. Questions I can't ask if he's dead.

"Prince Chrom!" Mustafa shouts. "My name is General Mustafa Issachar of Plegia. Will you hold for just a moment while I speak?"

Though Chrom seems to have a moment where he considers just continuing his attack, he at last lowers his sword. "What could you possibly have to say?"

"I want to tell you that I heard your sister's words. We all did. Her message reached farther than you may know. I agree with her desire for peace. Many of us do, in fact."

"Then lay down your arms, all of you, and let us go, right now," Chrom replies.

Mustafa shakes his head. "I cannot. Not so easily. The king knows me well. If my men and I were to allow you to simply leave, I could not guarantee their safety, nor the safety of my family. And I see in your face that you know well the value of family."

Chrom raises his sword again. "Then you mean to fight us!"

Mustafa quickly replies, "No, Prince. I mean to fight _you_ , specifically. And I mean just myself, as well. This is what I propose: you and I shall duel. If you win, I hereby order my men to stand down and allow you passage out of this place. But if I win, I want you to order your troops to submit to imprisonment. I don't wish there to be more bloodshed, but I cannot oppose Gangrel openly. So I ask this of you. Let us duel, and if you win, I want you to spare my men. Do you agree?"

Chrom considers for a moment. "Alright, we have a deal. But if one of your men so much as twitches near one of my soldiers when this is done, I will cut down every Plegian here. Understood?" he snarls.

Mustafa nods. "Understood. Let us begin." He brandishes his axe.

The rest of us back up, and the fight begins. Chrom still fights with the rage he had before, but this time he's coming against a much more formidable warrior. Mustafa isn't intimidated by Chrom's anger, nor is he daunted by Chrom's strength when it's so imprecisely applied. He easily bats aside and parries each of Chrom's swings, but infrequently follows up with a counter of his own. Even so, Chrom is taking some serious hits, just about every time Mustafa decides to attack.

Chrom isn't just losing this fight; he's throwing it away. Does he think that after losing Emm, there's nothing left to fight for? Is he just leaving it all on the field before making his exit? That must be why he stormed off ahead of everyone else. He intends to die.

I'm afraid that if any of us intervene, even with healing, then the duel will be off and the fight will ensue. I can see up on the vertebrae above us that as the duel has progressed, more Plegians have been gathering just in case they need to take us prisoner by force after the duel. This could turn to a full-scale fight if the duel is violated.

But I have to do something.

"Chrom!" I shout, almost without thinking. "Emmeryn isn't dead! She survived the fall!"

It seems like almost everything pauses at once. I feel every eye in the Midmire turn to me, including Mustafa and the rest of the Plegians.

"Randall? Is that true?" Chrom asks weakly.

"Yes. Yes, it's true. I healed her myself. Donny, can you bring her here?" He carries her through the crowd, and Chrom and Lissa rush over and place their heads on her chest to listen for a heartbeat. They both gasp. "I didn't want to say it because I thought her sacrifice might not motivate the Plegians to abandon this war unless they thought she was dead. But she was willing to die. Whether it was luck, or divine intervention, or whatever, she didn't. She's alive," I explain. Then I turn to the general. "Mustafa, can't this stop? Will you help us actually stop this war?" I ask.

Mustafa thinks for a long while. "Even so, I… There are still things that…" He starts laughing. "I admit, I did not anticipate that. Young man, you have totally undermined the sacrifice I intended to make for my men. I was initially planning to allow Prince Chrom to win, to die here, in the hopes that my men could be spared. But if even your Exalt yet lives, that rather takes the wind out of my sails." He laughs some more, a full chest-laugh. "Plegians, stand down. Prince Chrom, your man here has won the duel for you."

Chrom turns to me and throws his arms around me, followed swiftly by Lissa. Each of them is crying. We stay that way for a couple minutes. While that's happening, Robin steps forward.

"General Mustafa. Will you join us? You could help us bring peace to our countries," she says.

He shakes his head. "That remains one step too far. I cannot ask my men to turn on their motherland, even when she is headed by a tyrant. The families of each man to turn coat are in jeopardy, after all, as are all his friends and associates. No, open rebellion is beyond us. But you are free to go this day, and know that our hearts also yearn for peace."

From there, things at last start calming down. Mustafa's men start returning to the fortress, along with the man himself. So we managed to spare him after all, huh? Not bad. Maybe today could actually turn out alright.

Robin takes a covert swing at my head when no one's looking. "What are you doing? I thought we intended to keep her survival a secret from the Plegians, not announce it outright to their general!"

"You saw what was going on! Chrom was going to get himself killed if someone didn't intervene. Well, I guess with what Mustafa said, maybe not. But even so, Mustafa seems like a good man to me. Maybe he'll have his men keep it a secret from the rest of the Plegian army and the war will still die down," I counter.

"A secret kept between two people is difficult to hide. Among three, even more so. Among a whole fortress' encampment of soldiers? There's no chance. This will come back to bite us, I'm sure of it," she says sourly.

"Maybe it won't, though. We have to believe that the Plegians really want peace too, Robin," I reply.

She sighs. "I guess we can hope." A small smile creeps onto her face. "And I suppose it's nice to avoid conflict when we can. Even if that's not how I would have done it." She gets more serious again. "Anyway, we still haven't seen Frederick. Did you and Cordelia manage to find him earlier?"

Oh fuck. I forgot about that in the heat of the moment. "He went north from the eastmost aisle. I don't know what happened to him from there."

She blanches. "Let's go."

However, not long after we get to the north side of the spine, we spot Frederick's horse trotting toward us from the east, its rider looking a little worse for wear but certainly alive.

"Frederick!" I call as we rush over to him. "What happened?"

"I met a few more Plegians after you and Cordelia departed. Needless to say, I came out on top. They did manage a few blows on me, but with the rest of the vulnerary I carried, the damage is mitigated. Now I simply feel quite numb, and very much in need of rest," he explains.

"Why were you off on your own anyway?" Robin asks.

"I meant to serve as a diversion for milord and milady, that they might escape by a different path. But it seems that now the Plegians have stood down and are letting us pass. What's happened?"

"Mustafa told his company to let us go. Emmeryn's message must have gotten through to them," Robin replies.

Frederick sighs with relief. "Then we are at last delivered, at least for today. That is a mercy," he says, leaning forward concerningly.

"Whoa, there," I say. "Let's get you an actual healer there, boss."

"N-no need to trouble yourselves. I will be…" And that's all he manages before he slumps over on his horse. Even if he's not actively bleeding out, I want someone who won't pass out from the effort to heal him up. Fortunately, Libra is one of the Shepherds near the back of the pack. I call him over.

"Can you make sure he's just resting and not actually hurt? I'm on the verge of collapse myself here," I say, and as I say it, I realize how much I mean it. I'm not gonna last much longer.

Libra smiles gently. "Of course. You two can go on ahead. I will guide his horse to carry him alongside the caravan."

I nod gratefully, and Robin and I trudge off to rejoin the others. After a few moments of silence, I wordlessly raise my hand. She realizes what I'm after and gives me the sleepiest high-five I've ever experienced.

Good God do we need to sleep.

We meet Olivia, along with the rest of the Feroxi operatives ready with our caravan carts to get moving back north. I don't get the chance to speak with her personally, nor would I really want to when I'm in this state. Right now I've got one thing on my mind.

As Robin and I climb drowsily into the command wagon, Robin points to Donnel walking nearby. "Donny. If anything, and I mean anything, happens, I want you to come get us first before doing anything else. Got it?"

He salutes, knocking his helmet askew with his enthusiasm. "You got it, Robin."

Robin and I enter the wagon as the horses start pulling it into motion. She silently slips off her coat, rolling it up into a sort of round-ish shape, and immediately gets on the floor and lies down, using her coat as a pillow. Figuring that's a better idea than using a magic tome again, I pull my robes off, and ignoring how drenched they are, roll them up and lie down a few feet away from her. It's not comfy, but at this stage, I'm so far beyond caring.

I don't dream either. Dream-Melinda's got nothing on me after today.

* * *

"Um, Robin? Randall?"

No, please, don't. I want more sleep. I need more sleep.

"Maribelle told me to come get you. She said it's urgent."

Not a chance. Whatever it is, she's got it.

"Really urgent."

Ugh, fine. I wrench my eyes open. My body gets acquainted with a new level of soreness it's never experienced before as I slowly sit up and take a squinty-eyed look at Ricken in the doorway.

"What is it?" I ask as Robin slowly starts moving as well.

"It's Exalt Emmeryn. She's woken up."

Well, that gets the body moving. When I stumble out of the wagon, I'm greeted with a vindictive blast of desert sun to the eyeballs. And to the skin, for that matter; it's damn hot.

"How long were we out?"

"About a day. We didn't want to wake you, but this is… well, you'll see." He sure doesn't look too chipper considering the news he's delivering. What's up with that?

Oh no.

I book it over to the medical wagon, with Robin following closely behind. When we get inside, Chrom, Lissa, and Maribelle are all gathered around Emmeryn, with Frederick lying asleep nearer to the front of the wagon. As we enter, Emmeryn looks at me with what I can only call a helpless expression.

Please no.

"Randy I–" Maribelle begins, then stops herself. "We did everything in our power to make sure that Exalt Emmeryn would stay alive and safe. To that end, we succeeded. Physically. But mentally, there appears to have been some… damage." Lissa sobs into her brother's shoulder. "She cannot speak. And she doesn't appear to understand speech, as far as we c-can tell," Maribelle continues, but she starts getting choked up as well. "O-of course, it's good that she s-survived, but w-we couldn't… well…"

"We couldn't save all of her," Chrom mutters. His fists are tightened in his lap. "Even after all of that, everything we sacrificed and worked for, she still…"

I have no idea what to say. I don't know what to do. I can't think. Emmeryn looks at me almost pleadingly, as if I'll have some answer for why all these people are speaking gibberish and crying around her. I don't have any such answer. It doesn't seem like Robin does either, because she doesn't say a thing.

"Emm, it's me!" Lissa suddenly shouts. "It's your baby sister! Lissa! Don't you recognize me?"

Emmeryn jumps in surprise, turning to look at Lissa. As Lissa continues to plead with her to recognize her, Emmeryn's expression shifts from confusion to fear and sadness, and tears start welling up in her eyes too.

"L-Lissa, darling," Maribelle says through her tears. "Perhaps w-we should give your s-sister some time. M-maybe a good rest is all she n-needs."

Though Lissa still sobs openly, she allows Maribelle to drape her desert cloak over her and take her outside.

Chrom, Robin, and I sit in silence for a few minutes while Emmeryn looks around in bewilderment. Maribelle is right, of course: what Emm needs is rest, and lots of it. But I'm still not able to convince my body to get up and leave.

Finally, Chrom stands and heads for the door, pausing to plant a hand too firmly on my shoulder. "You did what you could. Thank you for that," he says in the tightest, most strained voice I've ever heard. He throws on his cloak and leaves the wagon.

"Randall," Robin says in a low voice. "We need to take some time to process this. Why don't you come with me?"

Before I can think to reply, Frederick coughs on the other side of the wagon as he wakes up. I turn to Robin.

"I'm gonna make sure he's okay. You go ahead. I'll meet with you soon," I say in as neutral a tone as I can manage.

She doesn't fall for it; I can see it in her expression. Still, she nods and leaves the wagon. Picking up a staff and walking over to Frederick, I kneel down beside him. He's had his armor stripped off and is only in the somewhat-shredded butler uniform of black slacks, a white shirt, and a black vest and tie. The man doesn't know the meaning of leisure, I guess.

"You doing okay?" I ask. That's right. Focus on Frederick right now. Someone you can actually help.

"I… I believe so, only…" He tries to sit up, but falters and falls back down. "Oh. Oh my." He tries again, and fails again. He reaches down and feels his upper thigh, then slides his hand down to his knee. He does it with the other leg. "Randall, I… I can't feel my legs."

My heart stops in my chest. Come on, not this too. Jesus, I don't know if I can handle this. "Wh-what? What do you mean?"

He takes a couple deep breaths first. Then when he's collected himself, he says, "I can neither feel nor move my legs. Can you attempt to heal me with your staff, please?"

In the back of my mind, I already remember what I read before. If he lost bone or otherwise had a part of his spine straight up taken out, there's nothing I'll be able to do. I try not to panic as I hold the staff up and let the magic, considerably weaker than normal, out and into his legs.

After a few seconds, I ask, "Anything?"

He strikes his leg with a fist. "Nothing."

"Frederick, what happened?" I ask, doing my best to avoid shouting.

"Well, I suppose after that significant blow from that wyvern rider, I must have taken quite a bit of damage. The vulnerary did at least stop the bleeding, but I was still in pain afterward, so it failed to do a complete job. Even so, I sent you and Cordelia off because I was concerned more for milord and milady's safety than my comfort.

"After that, though, there must have been a weak spot in my armor near the small of my back, because when I engaged a few more Plegian soldiers after that, one of them scored a mere light blow on my back. It hurt for a moment, but the pain quickly faded, so I presumed it to have been a feeble strike. However, I think now that the reason the pain left me so quickly is because the feeling itself had left my lower body. As I said before, I drank some vulnerary for my trouble and thought I was in fine shape. I was so caught in the thrill of battle that I didn't notice the lack of feeling before I lost consciousness. I only… noticed it now." His hands have started shaking during his recounting of the story.

I should have known. I shouldn't have trusted vulnerary alone for a blow that huge to such a sensitive area. I should have inspected it before we left. God damnit. God damnit!

"Randall, is there someone else in the wagon? I can hear them, but I can't see them behind you. No one else was injured during the escape, I hope?" Frederick interrupts my thoughts.

"O-oh. It's, well… here," I say, sliding out of the way so that he can see Emmeryn, who looks back at him with the same confusion that she looks at everything with.

He audibly gasps. "M...Milady Emmeryn?" he whispers. "You survived?" She doesn't reply or do anything that suggests she knows she's being spoken to, but a smile slowly grows on his face nonetheless. "Dear gods above… I thought it beyond hope."

I decide it's better to drop the bomb on him right away. "Frederick, she's lost her ability to speak or understand language. She also seems like she might have some major memory loss."

His expression remains the same awed, disbelieving joy it was before. "Milady… Oh thank the gods," he says, and for the first time, I see tears flow from his eyes. To my amazement, he starts dragging himself on his arms across the floor over to her, his legs limply following in his wake.

"Whoa, Frederick, hang on," I say, but to no avail; he won't be stopped.

He comes to rest beside the pretty well terrified looking Emmeryn. "Milady Emmeryn…" he says reverently, gently reaching out and taking one of her hands. "Forgive my impropriety, but…" Her body tenses up at his touch, but she doesn't pull away. He holds her hand with both of his, rubbing his thumb slowly over the back of her hand as if to reassure himself it's real. "You survived. When I saw you fall, I… No matter. You've escaped death, and that's all that matters to your faithful knight."

After that, he falls silent, content merely to hold her hand and lie beside her. For her part, Emmeryn slowly relaxes as well, her expression finally dropping the fear and apprehension and replacing them with a sort of quiet calm. As she does this, I realize I'm intruding on a pretty sensitive moment.

As I make my way to the door, I turn to Frederick. "We'll be in and out to keep an eye on you two. Make sure to sleep as much as you can," I say stiffly, then shut the door behind me.

Even though I just woke up from a day of sleep, I'm already drained. For the rest of the day, I walk in numb silence, completely disregarding everyone who tries to talk to me and even ignoring the sun beating down on me as I left my robes in the command wagon. I do my best not to think about anything. At dinner, I don't eat. I set up the old black tent and unroll my bedroll as soon as it gets dark out. I get as comfortable as I can with my new collection of sunburns, then go to sleep.

Maybe all this is just a bad dream. A really bad dream.

* * *

" _Yes, you'd rather like that, wouldn't you?"_

" _Oh for Christ's sake, do I look like I need this?"_

" _Now more than ever, actually. But perhaps you don't need to hear it from me after all."_

" _What do you mean?"_

 _In the blink of an eye, Mindy is gone, replaced by a man I scarcely recognize._

" _Been a while, Randall."_

" _Oh my God, Jackson, it's you!"_

" _Right you are. I think you'd nearly forgotten about me."_

" _What are you talking about? Of course I wouldn't!"_

" _Why not? You didn't know me all that long, after all."_

" _But you were a friend to me! You were always kind and accommodating even to a novice like me."_

" _You say that now. It's easy to say that now. But the truth is you never think of me. Isn't it? And don't forget: you can't lie to me here."_

" _I… Look, you know how crazy my life has been! I haven't been able to think about much of anything!"_

 _He grimaces, then in an instant is replaced by a little old woman._

" _Isadora! You have to believe me! I haven't forgotten you all! I haven't!"_

" _You stood there. My daughter had been killed, beheaded by that witch, and you did nothing. I died in vain trying to avenge my daughter alone, dearie. What could you possibly have to say for yourself?"_

" _There was nothing I could do! I tried to die in order to save you, but it didn't work!"_

" _It wouldn't have worked anyway, as you now know. Robin was off with the rest of the Shepherds, was she not? No, I'm not talking about your power. It is_ you _that didn't save us. You knew they were coming, and you warned no one."_

" _I didn't know when they were coming! How could I have told them that the enemy was coming without knowing when? And even if I did, how could I have justified having that information?"_

 _She stands a little taller, slowly shifting and smoothing out, her hair growing until it's Maribelle standing in front of me._

" _So my family died to protect your precious secret, Randy?"_

" _It's not like that! You barely knew me then! You wouldn't have ever believed me!"_

" _That's what you tell yourself. But you were never even inclined to try warning us. You never considered it. You were too busy having fun training and flirting with the cute blonde and her quaint servants."_

" _Maribelle, that's not true—"_

" _And then, on top of that, when I gave my heart to you, you stomped on it and handed back the pieces when you were through with me."_

" _You know that's not how that happened! It wasn't healthy, what we were doing! I did something good!"_

" _You did something convenient. Easier to cut and run than to sort out your problems at their core. You left them all to me to handle alone while you went off with everyone else, carefree as a lark. They all took your side, Randy. Even Lissa at times."_

" _You have to know I never wanted to hurt you, Maribelle! I have never wanted that!"_

" _But you did it anyway. And I still hurt, even now."_

" _Maribelle, please listen to me!"_

 _But she's gone. Replaced by Lissa._

" _Why didn't you save my sister, Randy?"_

" _Wh-what? I… I did! She lived! She survived the fall! That's more than we would've had if I had done nothing!"_

" _You saved her shell. You saved a thing that looks like her, but it's not my sister anymore. She'll never look at me the way she used to. Now she'll only look at me with that fear in her eyes, Randy. It tears me apart."_

" _Lissa, I did everything I could! I don't know what else I could have done!"_

" _Why didn't you Rescue her as she was falling? Or even before we sent Cordelia up in the first place?"_

" _It was… it was important that she say the things she said. That she made that sacrifice. That she show everyone she was prepared to die."_

 _Lissa's gone now, with Chrom taking her place._

" _So that's why you took our sister from us."_

" _I didn't! She made that choice herself!"_

" _A choice she would never have needed to make if you had done the right thing!"_

" _I… Look, Chrom, stopping this war is bigger than any person, even—"_

" _Don't you dare say that it was a sacrifice you were willing to make! It was never your choice to make! You monster. This is still a game to you, even after all this time. Everything you've seen. Everything you've done."_

 _He collapses to the floor, but when he hits the ground, he's changed into Frederick._

" _I'll never walk again, Randall. You did this to me."_

" _I didn't! That blow you took knocked pieces of you loose that I could have never put back! Even if I had acted immediately, the damage would have been permanent."_

" _But you let us believe Exalt Emmeryn was dead. You fueled our despair, and drove us to this. I would never have needed to act as the decoy if milord were not so distraught at the supposed death of his elder sister. I would be able to walk right now if you had told him straight away."_

" _I was unconscious! He left and ran ahead!"_

" _You were on Stahl's horse for an hour, and you made no effort to make the truth known. It's only the smallest of mercies that you revealed it in time to save milord, but you didn't in time to save my spine. I will never walk again, Randall. You did this to me."_

" _Please, stop. Please."_

 _Still lying on the ground, he changes to Emmeryn herself. She doesn't say anything, but rather just looks at me with that confused, helpless expression, pleading with me to help her._

" _Emmeryn, I didn't mean for this to happen to you. Please, if you understand anything, understand that I never intended this. I never thought this would happen."_

" _..."_

" _God damnit, it was all going so well! We were going to save you, stop the war, fix everything. But that's all gone out the window, and all because I couldn't come up with a good enough plan. I even knew what was going to happen in advance, and yet I still came up short."_

" _..."_

" _Son of a bitch. What am I even telling you this for? You don't understand anything right now, huh?"_

" _...Say it."_

" _Huh?"_

" _Say it."_

" _Say what?"_

" _Say it!"_

" _Tell me what you want me to say!"_

" _SAY IT!"_

" _I don't understand!"_

" _SAY IT!"_

" _I'm sorry!"_

" _SAY IT!"_

" _I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"_

 _Now Frederick is here, repeating it with her. "SAY IT!"_

" _I'm sorry, please just stop!"_

 _Now Chrom and Lissa. "SAY IT!"_

" _I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"_

 _Now Jackson, Isadora, and Mindy. "SAY IT!"_

" _I'M SORRY!"_

 _Finally, Maribelle. "SAY IT!"_

" _I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY!"_

" _Randy!"_

" _I'M SORRY!"_

" _Randy, wa_ ke up!"

"I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY, JUST PLEASE STOP!"

"Randy!" Someone is shaking me.

My eyes snap open.

I'm in my tent. It's dark and cold. What am I holding onto?

I lift my head a little and realize I've had my face buried in Maribelle's lap, and we're not alone in the tent either. Robin is close by, holding onto my left hand (and based on the reddish marks on her hand, I'm guessing I was crushing it pretty awfully), while outside the tent I can see at least Chrom, Lissa, and Cordelia standing there, peering in with concern.

"Randy," Maribelle says gently, pulling my attention back to her, "it was just a dream. That's all. Just a dream."

I realize I must have been shouting out loud in my sleep. No wonder I've apparently woken up half of the Shepherds. A wave of shame is added on top of the guilt and stress that I can see now have been mounting for quite a while. Finally, the dam bursts.

For the first time since I came to this world, I start crying. Ugly, full-throated sobs that make it difficult to breathe and impossible to do anything but pour it out. I can't even speak properly at this point.

Maribelle pulls me in by my shoulders and buries my head in the crook of her neck, wrapping her arms tightly around me while I hang onto her back and stain her nightgown with tears and snot. I hear Robin scoot closer and feel a third hand on my back, rubbing my shoulders softly. The only thing anyone says over my wailing is Maribelle quietly whispering "Shh," in my ear, as if she were a mother comforting a child. I certainly feel that way right now.

After some time, I tire myself out, emptied of tears and sobs for one night. I allow Maribelle and Robin to guide me back to my bedroll and lay me down. The pair of them each give me a soft, understanding smile as they leave the tent, closing the black flap behind them.

Before they do, though, I see the others still standing outside. Not one of them had left.

* * *

 **A/N: So, that about wraps up what I'm tentatively calling the first major arc of the story. Been a long time coming, huh? And to think, at one point I was considering making this chapter and the last chapter one big monster chapter. I know you guys have generally spoken favorably about the lengthier chapters, but both of these together would've been pushing about 30k words, and that's a whole new level of length, so I'm glad I called off that idea. I know I kinda ended things on a downer note with this one, but I felt that pretty appropriate considering Chapters 9 and 10 of Awakening are arguably the saddest in the game itself. Gotta knock our heroes down a few pegs before they can rise up to triumph another day, right? I'm excited to launch into the second phase of the Plegian War in earnest here in the coming chapters. Plenty of goodies coming your way!  
**

 **As always, I have to thank the wonderful Syntaxis and Mixed Valence for their help with making this chapter the best it could be. Their advice was indispensable this time around, especially in regards to a moment I've decided to save for a later chapter. You'll see. Oh, and speaking of Syntaxis, they've started up a subreddit specifically for the FE fanfiction fans among us! So if you haven't already, go and show r/FireEmblemFanfiction some love and spread the word! And here is your out of context Syntaxis quote of the week: "** **But I distinctly remember that there was this forbidden section for just eighth graders. We thought the books there must have been all about this filthy 'secks' thing we kept hearing about."**

 **I think I've been doing a little better with responding to my reviewers personally, but if I didn't specifically send you a message, it's likely because I didn't have a particular question for you in response to your comments. Even so, I read and love everything you guys throw my way :3**

 **As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**


	25. Ch 25: Robin Does a Swear

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 25: Robin Does a Swear**

 _The young woman in blue shivers slightly under her blanket. Unfortunately, this has become the norm for her lately, as the desert gets surprisingly cold at night. Even so, she can't risk starting a fire and being spotted… Not that there's anything she could use to keep a fire going all night anyway._

 _She sighs._

 _Talking to herself to distract from the cold, she mutters, "He did it. Randall actually saved Aunt Emmeryn. I thought we were foiled for sure. Time favors its original course, but with a strong enough will, maybe… we could change things."_

 _A sharp breeze slips through her blanket, interrupting her thoughts and earning a fresh shiver from her. If only she could join her father and the rest of the Shepherds, safe from the wind in their tents. But no, that would be too risky. The more time she spends with the Shepherds, the greater the risk that one of them might see the Brand in her eye. Having to explain that to anyone other than Randall would be just about impossible. Especially since her father and mother aren't even married yet, let alone expecting a child._

 _She thinks about the other children from her time. Where they might be. Naga had warned them that there was no guarantee they wouldn't be, as Randall put it at the time, 'scattered to the cosmic fucking winds.'_

 _She thinks about her brother. Where had he landed, and when? Would he be alright on his own? She had hoped at first that they might land close together, since she'd entered the portal not long after him, but it seems there really wasn't a rhyme or reason to the way they'd come out the other side._

 _Even so, she had seemingly landed in the exact right place and time. She was just in time to save Aunt Lissa, and she had ample time to prevent Lon'qu being crippled and Aunt Emmeryn from being assassinated._

 _Time she has spent largely alone. She has never been on her own for this long in her life before. No matter how much her parents and Randall had tried to prepare her for what was coming, it was still different when she finally arrived in the past. On one hand, towns are full to bursting with people, with good food and soft beds, with hope and strength. This world is rich with life. On the other, she has always had her friends and her little brother to see her through even the toughest of times. Not to mention that Randall had always been there for her, until… She shakes her head. This is a new world to her, even after these several months. The unfamiliar things, even the positive ones, frighten her. And seeing how much this world has to lose if she should fail…_

 _Another chill, unrelated to the weather, runs down her spine._

 _But even so, with every passing battle, it seems the world gets closer and closer to a future that averts the rebirth of the monster that still haunts her dreams. If Aunt Emmeryn can be saved, then why shouldn't she have faith that with her help and a bit of divine luck, things couldn't turn out differently?_

 _Now her mind stirs in a different direction. Where could or should she go to be the most useful to the cause? Where is the next disaster going to strike? Things are already so different than what she had anticipated, even accounting for saving Aunt Emmeryn. From what she knew of her own time, her father had taken control of the country much earlier and had by this time already begun an organized counterattack on Plegia. The enemy had never taken Ylisstol in the first place because Prince Chrom had never left it. But in this new sequence of events, the capital was left virtually undefended, as her father had prioritized keeping Aunt Emmeryn safe and the royal guard left behind wasn't enough to stop the Plegian advance._

 _Did her intervention actually cost lives rather than save them?_

 _She shakes her head. It won't do to think like that. She heard Aunt Emmeryn's speech, after all. It's likely that her message was magically relayed all the way across the country. The Exalt may not have the aptitude to wield Falchion, but her magical talent is certainly not something to underestimate. So hopefully that message might inspire a more peaceful sentiment in the Plegians. Perhaps with Aunt Emmeryn saved and having delivered this message, the drawn-out bloodshed of the war she had heard stories about might even now be avoided._

 _Even so, that doesn't answer the question of where she is most needed. Of course, she could try looking for her friends, but according to Naga and Randall, there is no way to know where or even when they ended up. Plus, her intervention had been helpful before with saving Aunt Emmeryn, so there's a chance that she might be needed again soon. Though with the advantage of foresight now lost to her thanks to all these departures from the former timeline, she is going to have to simply be more diligent and adaptable than before._

 _In a way, it's almost exciting. To know she played a role in saving her aunt's life. To have this chance to save everyone else, too. It's a warm enough thought that she manages to shrug off the wind and fall asleep, curled up in the desert sand._

* * *

"Uuugh," I moan into my hands.

It's the only way I can sum up my feelings about what happened yesterday. Even though I just woke up, I already feel out of it. I think I spent just about all the emotion in my system last night, and now I just feel vaguely empty. Just when everything looked like it was going to go well for us, life delivered a knockout combo that finally proved too much for me to handle. If I were back on Earth, I'd probably consider seeing a therapist. But we don't exactly have those around here.

How is everyone going to react when they see me? I'm sure that the Shepherds that didn't see or hear it themselves will at least have gotten the story from someone before the day is out. Even harmless gossip spreads like wildfire through this army, let alone someone having a very loud mental breakdown in the middle of the night. Though perhaps in light of the even bigger crises in our midst, it might get overshadowed. You know, like the Exalt losing her memory and arguably our best fighter losing the use of his legs.

On thinking about Emmeryn and Frederick again, my face goes back in my hands. I'm reminded with a painful sting that I let myself get incredibly sunburnt yesterday. I think I can feel the melanomas forming already.

"Uuugh."

The tent flap opens. It's the one person I think I could bear to see right now. The only person that might understand some of this guilt.

"Come on, Randall. We've got to get a move on if we're going to stay ahead of the Plegians," Robin says, holding the tent flap open with a foot while her hands are busy tying her hair up.

She's right, of course. Not that it makes getting up any easier. Every fiber of my being reminds me that it's still sore after the ordeal it went through the other day. Hell, the Rescue of Cordelia and Hyperion took a lot out of me by itself. I can see why saving Ricken, Maribelle, and me at once knocked Lissa clean out back at the Border Pass. To say nothing of my mental state making me want to stay in bed too.

As I pull on my robes, wincing from the burns on my face and neck as I do so, I realize how disgusting they are after our exceedingly damp and muddy trip through the Midmire. I really need to own more than one outfit. It's a nice, distracting thought for a few seconds, before I remember what I'm trying to distract myself from. I sigh, strapping my Mend staff to my back as I leave my tent.

Packing up the caravan is a quiet process. I can feel eyes occasionally looking my way and quickly averting their gaze. It's almost worse than if people came right up to me and asked about it. Almost. In general, aside from Robin, people are steering clear of me for the moment. I don't even see Chrom or Maribelle, so I can't say whether they're ignoring me too. Not that anyone's particularly chatty with anyone else, so maybe it's not just me. Regardless, we need to get moving to stay ahead of the Plegians, so we get everything packed away quickly, and soon we're back on the road. The only nice part about the process is when I find a vial of vulnerary and drink it to make my burns calm down.

Once we're all set and moving, Robin gestures for me to join her in the command wagon. When we're inside, Robin stops in the middle of walking toward the war table and turns to look at me.

"Randall, I'm sorry. I should have checked with Frederick before we allowed ourselves to sleep. I should have helped you act more quickly to save Exalt Emmeryn's memory. I was so sure that she had died, and I hadn't seen any sign that she'd used the wind magic. But I should have had more faith, like you did. Maybe that would have made a difference," she says.

"I don't think it would have been any different unless we had gone back and went for a ninth run. I wish we had, but there's no guarantee it would've gone even slightly okay. We were already just about dead in the water for that eighth run," I reply.

She was already pretty somber-looking, but it worsens. "Even so, I feel responsible. You did everything you could, but I didn't."

"Trust me, I could've done more. I always could have done more," I say, half-scoffing.

"That doesn't change that I should have done more as well."

"What, are you making this a contest or something? I spent all of last night thinking through everything that's been my fault in this war, and I'll tell you what, it's a pretty high score, Robin!" I shoot back incredulously.

"You're not the only one at fault, Randall," she snaps, her tone sharpening.

"Sure fucking feels like it," I retort.

"Then why do I feel like this?" She grabs me by my little shoulder shawl-cape thing and shakes it. "Why do I know the things I could have, and _should_ have, done differently? If it was really only you, then I'd be mad at you, not me!"

"You sound pretty mad at me right now," I reply.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Randall," she sighs. "I'm irritated with you right now, but I'm not angry."

"Well maybe you goddamn should be!" I say, roughly shaking her off of me.

"What would that help?" she demands in return.

"It'd be better than everyone fucking pitying me! Pity is for people who don't deserve what's happening to them. I don't deserve anyone's pity."

"You don't think you're pitying yourself just a little bit? Not talking to anyone all morning, just moping around the way you were?"

"Oh gee, Robin! Maybe I'm feeling just a little bit down on account of everything I fucked up!" I'm pacing around the wagon by now. "Maybe it's a little hard to wake up the next morning and go, 'Oh, good morning starshine! How about a nice cup of tea and a little ditty to start off the day? I think I'll go have a nice frolic in the blistering fucking sand, maybe burn the shit out of my skin! What does it matter, at least that can be cured! Least it's not, say, permanent memory loss, or maybe paralysis! Sure would _suck_ if that was what happened, right?'"

She gets in my face again. "Yeah, Randall, it sure does! It's awful what happened, but it wasn't all you! We can't afford to lose ourselves over this! We have to pick up and move forward, or else even more terrible things are going to happen to our friends!"

"What is it you want from me, Robin?" I demand.

"I want you to get it together. I know that you can be a bit volatile when you get angry. More than a bit. But that has to go in a positive place, or else we risk losing one of the best resources we have. You're a good healer, and a good tactician, but not if you can't grab the reins under pressure. So please, just work with me." She's consciously reduced her volume to try and calm the situation down, but I'm still breathing heavily with frustration and anger. "Let me help you shoulder this, Randy. I can–"

Behind me, I hear the door to the command wagon open. With almost unnatural speed, Tharja materializes next to Robin.

"I thought I might find you here, Robin," she coos, not giving any signal that she's even noticed me here. "I know you've lost your memories of our past, but that's okay. I was thinking you'd like me to tell you some of the things we did together when we were little. Maybe it could jog your memory?"

Robin too looks surprised at how fast Tharja moved to her side. "O-oh. I mean, it's true that I'd like that, but… maybe not now, Tharja. There's a lot going on at the moment, and I need to be focused on keeping the Shepherds together and on task as we make our way out of the country."

Tharja leans her head forward, her bangs casting her face in shadow. "I… see. But if you ever feel like talking, you won't need to look far."

She turns and starts to skulk toward the door, but before she makes it that far, a thought occurs to me. You want me to put all this in a productive place, Robin? Fine. This is how I'll do it.

"Hey Tharja," I call, holding up a hand. She pauses and turns slightly. "I got a favor I want to ask you for."

"What is it?" she asks in an irritated monotone.

"I want you to teach me to use dark magic. I know I have the aptitude, but I never had a teacher before. Wanna help a fellow dark mage out?" I ask. I hear Robin shift behind me.

Tharja turns to face me fully. "I don't see why I'd waste the time to–"

"Because it would make me more useful to the Shepherds," I interrupt. "Robin's been wanting me to learn ever since we discovered I had the aptitude."

Behind me, Robin says, "I thought you didn't want to learn dark magic."

I turn to look at her over my shoulder. "I wasn't sure before, but now I am. You're right; I need a place to put all this. And I remember now how good it felt to use it the first time, back at the Border Sands. To put a murdering slaver into the ground, rid the world of a little evil. And anyway, like I said, it was your idea in the first place."

She sighs. "That's true. Alright then. Tharja, would you please help him learn?"

Tharja scowls. "Fine. Come with me. I'll explain the basics until we stop the caravan for the day, then you can begin your actual training."

"Be careful, Randall," Robin says as we leave the wagon.

* * *

"The first and most important thing to understand is the connection between dark magic and emotion. The core of a dark mage's talent is in the ability to express and amplify the right emotion to get the right result from the tome."

"What does that mean?" I ask.

"I'm getting there," Tharja snaps. "Don't rush me." With a huff, she continues, "Where anima magic is based mostly in the understanding a mage has for the element and the runes used to bind that element, dark magic is on a deeper, more intuitive level. It's older magic than anima, and like light magic, which isn't really used anymore since no one in a long time has had the aptitude for it, the ability to use it is based in things that predate intellect. In other words, to get the most out of a dark magic tome, you have to allow your bestial side to come through. As humans understand it, that means you have to let your emotions flow into your magic."

She reaches into the dark cloth bag slung over her shoulder and gets out a black leatherbound book and hands it to me. "Take this. Feel it in your hands."

I take the tome from her. It has that same feeling as a healing staff does, as if it's been somehow 'switched on' by my touch and is patiently waiting for me to open it up and release its magic.

"That's a Flux tome. It's considered the most basic of dark magic tomes because of its more general emotional requirements. You don't really need to feel any specific emotion to make good use of a Flux tome; all that matters is that whatever you feel, you feel it intensely. You could even feel something positive like love or joy and still make it work; that's how general it is.

"With more advanced tomes like this Nosferatu here," she continues, holding up another black tome, "the requirements are more specific and more taxing for the user. To use a Nosferatu to its fullest power, you have to master the emotion of desire. Of envy. Jealousy. The need to _take_ from someone else. Only then can you effectively steal their life force."

"Does that mean I'll get to use–"

"Do not interrupt me. I'm only going to say all this once, so I hope you're paying attention," she growls, stowing her Nosferatu back in the bag. "Later, you'll learn about Ruin tomes," she goes on, "which rely on the user's desire to, as you might guess, absolutely decimate the enemy. The desire for destruction, to watch something be reduced to ashes, is essential to making Ruin its most potent."

Explains why the bloodthirsty Henry is so proficient with it, I think to myself.

"Finally, someday you might get to the level of a Waste tome. Though it sounds deceptively simple, the force that powers a Waste tome is absolute, unremitting _hatred_. You must really, truly pour out your malice onto your target. It's a personal, extremely taxing spell. Not many dark mages can manage to allow such hate into their hearts without going mad, but such is the price of power. You got all that?"

"What about Goetia?" I ask.

She frowns. "How should I know? It's a legendary weapon. I've never seen it, let alone held it and studied what emotions it might require from its user."

"Oh. Sorry, I guess," I say, a little embarrassed. Tharja reminds me of the older kids from my middle school days. She just has this way of looking at you that makes you feel like an idiot.

"Why do you want to know?" she asks.

"Well, I've been hit with its magic a few times now. I was just wondering how it works is all."

She stops walking. "Wait. You've been hit with Goetia's magic? More than once? And you're alive?"

"Yeah…?" I stop walking too.

She sniffs. "What was it like?"

"Hmm… It was… awful. Like, by far the worst pain I've ever been in. Whatever it hits experiences immediate and near total necrosis. I'm pretty sure it's only because Lissa and Maribelle are masters of their craft that I was brought back from that. I can't say it's an experience I recommend."

"I see… Very interesting. So you met with Lady Aversa's wrath, not just once, but multiple times?"

"Oh, you know her? Yeah, I don't think we've had a single interaction where I didn't actively piss her off." We start walking again.

"Every member of the Grimleal faith's inner circle has at least seen Lady Aversa at some point," Tharja says, as if it should have been obvious. "And before you ask, yes, I was a member of the Grimleal inner circle. It won't be a problem, though. I'm sure I've already been excommunicated by now."

"That how you know Robin, then?" I ask. "You were her little playmate or something?"

Her eyes flash dangerously. "How much do you know?"

Whoops. I guess I spoke too carelessly. Let's dial it back a bit. "Well, it's not exactly a mystery what the mark on the back of her hand is. I've seen it all over every piece of Grimleal merch we've seen so far. I assume she was part of the faith once, before she lost her memories."

Her eyes stay narrowed for a moment, but finally she relents. "You're not wrong. It's the Brand of the Defile. She was once considered very important to the Grimleal faithful. It seems she, or more likely her mother, decided that wasn't the life for her after all."

"You must have missed her a lot after she left."

She's silent for a moment. "You haven't the faintest idea."

* * *

"Hang on, what? Why can't we just use a dummy?" I ask incredulously.

"Because you'd never be able to muster up the emotion to damage a dummy. Not to mention we'd never be able to tell if a spell that decays organic matter worked on a dummy in the first place, obviously," Tharja replies, exasperated.

The caravan has stopped for the evening, which means it's finally time to give my first real training session a try. But I'm already stumbling at the first hurdle. Apparently the only way for dark mages to practice their craft is to try it on live targets. In this case, Tharja.

Reminds me of staff training, actually.

"Fine, I guess that makes sense. But what am I supposed to feel?" I ask.

"Weren't you listening before? It doesn't matter with a Flux tome. You can feel whatever you want, as long as you feel it strongly. If you've been harboring a secret, fiery love for me since we met a few days ago, pour that into the spell. If you hate me to my very core, then channel that hatred. If you find that you… lust after me, I suppose that would work as well," she replies, grimacing as she says that last part. "Though if that's the case, then for your own good, I don't want to know." She stands about fifteen feet away, arms held limply out to her sides, waiting for me to deliver.

"Alright, I'll give it a go, I guess." I open the cover of the Flux tome and touch my fingers to the tingling page, feeling my spiritual force interact with the magic just on the other side of the runes. I gently lead the magic out of the tangle of runes and take it into my hand.

Now, what do I think of Tharja? What do I feel about her? I mean, I'm not her biggest fan. Stalker yandere types are really not my cup of tea. Maybe I can try and amplify my feelings of disgust I have for her creeping ways. Sounds as good as anything.

I look at her intently. That little creepy smile, masking God-only-knows-what thoughts, no doubt about Robin. She probably plans to watch Robin sleep tonight or something. I bet she wants to watch her bathe too! That's fucking gross. It's creepy, and she deserves to take a heavy dose of Flux for it!

I raise my hand.

But then I think about how she knew Robin back in their childhood. How much she must have missed her friend when she was taken away as a child. She's creepy, to be sure, but not for no reason like I once thought.

I release the spell, and it flies toward her and hits her squarely in the chest. She stumbles back a few steps, coughing for a few seconds, then stands up straight.

"That was feeble," she reprimands. "Almost no commitment whatsoever. Your mind must have been all over the place, dragging your emotions in its wake. Try once more."

"I'm not sure if I feel anything about you all that strongly, is all," I say.

She scowls. "Then pretend I'm someone else. Pretend I'm Gangrel. That should get you good and angry, shouldn't it?"

You know, she's got a point. Just at hearing the name, I think I feel my eyelid twitch a bit. I close my eyes and picture him instead of the woman in front of me. That son of a bitch was given a chance to let this all end, and he opted for this stupid war instead. All to fuel some egotistical ambition of his. How many have died needlessly to satisfy his sick narcissism?

He ordered the deaths of almost everyone in Maribelle's villa. Their blood is on his hands as much as it's on mine.

She's really got a point. I throw open the tome and lay my hand across a page, sliding my hand across the runes and pulling the magic out of them. It comes obediently, more willingly than any healing magic I've ever coaxed out of a staff. I feel it in my hands, gentle and springy but full of tension. Begging me to set it loose.

Begging to be allowed to punish Gangrel.

I throw the magic with my eyes closed. Once it's in the air, I open my eyes just in time to see Tharja take the blast to the face. Instantly, she's down for the count, whirling around and falling facedown onto the slowly cooling sand.

Oh shit.

I rush over to her and roll her onto her back as quickly as I can. Jesus Christ, I just about Harvey Two-Faced her. The whole right side of her face is blackened and decayed, her desiccated muscles just barely holding everything in its place. In a light panic, I pull out my Mend staff (thank Christ it's an automatic part of my morning routine to strap it on by now) and put it to work. Slowly, and with no shortage of grimaces and groans of pain from Tharja, her facial tissues reform and restructure themselves. It takes about three minutes for the damage to get fully undone.

Once I'm done, though, she surprises me. Rather than yell at me or threaten me with an equally vicious counterattack, she starts to chuckle in a low, sinister tone.

"Now that's more like it. I must have touched a nerve there, am I right?" she says.

I'm shaking a little bit. "Y-yeah. I guess so."

"Well, I've got some good news for you. You've definitely got the aptitude for this. Once you stop shaking like a newborn deer, we can give it another try."

I can't get the image out of my head for even a second. "My anger did that?"

She's grinning. "Oh yes. And wasn't it such a rush?"

I have to sit down. "That's one word for it."

She waits for a few seconds, but soon apparently loses her patience. "Come on, you're going to need more practice than just one good cast."

"I, uh, think I need a minute," I say, trying not to let my voice betray my nerves.

"You're telling me you haven't seen the results of dark magic before? I thought you took the full brunt of Goetia and lived," she says crossly. I can't really look at her face right now.

"It's not about that. Well, not wholly, anyway. It's more like… I _did_ that. Just with my anger." The image of that Grimleal priest comes to mind. Or rather, what was left of him after I had let my magic loose on him. I had acted almost without thinking then. It had been automatic, like a survival instinct. But even then, it must have been my rage that fueled my power. Unthinking, uncontrolled anger.

I realize that's what scared me just now. For just a second, I lost control. And in that moment, it felt _good_.

As if reading my mind, Tharja says, "You'll learn to let go after a while. It's often one of the most difficult things in training a dark mage. You have to be willing to let your emotions run wild to become an effective mage. Now get up, and go again."

I do get up, but I say to her, "I think I've learned plenty for one day. Thanks, Tharja." I turn and start walking back toward the rest of the caravan.

She scoffs under her breath as I leave.

* * *

I'm still not super steady on my feet when I get back to the campsite. I'm not sure what to do with myself. I don't know who to talk to, or if I even want to talk with anyone at all. Images of dark magic and the mindless joy I felt keep flashing through my head, and the more I try not to think about it, the more I fixate on it.

It's only when my eyes come across the medical wagon that I can think about anything else. Though that's hardly a comforting train of thought either.

I probably do owe them a visit, though. It's my fault they're in this situation, after all. It might suck to have to confront what I've done face to face again, but maybe that's all the more reason I need to do it. I start heading over.

When I get to the medical wagon, I find Lon'qu standing arms crossed, leaning against the frame of the wagon. He nods at me as I enter. I'm therefore not surprised to see Lissa inside sitting with her sister. I give just about the most awkward wave hello in this world's history.

"Hey Lissa," I half-whisper. "How's, uh, things?"

She looks up at me, wearing a pretty obviously forced smile. "Hey Randy. Just checking in with Emm. Seeing if she's any better after getting some sleep. She's actually smiled a couple times today, so that's probably an improvement, but I don't know if she knows what I'm saying to her. Honestly, I'm pretty sure by now that she doesn't know who I am. Who anybody is."

"I'm sorry this happened, Lissa," I say, sitting down with them.

She takes a deep breath. "I'm trying to keep my mind on the positive. When I saw her go down off that spire, I thought for sure she was dead. I thought I had lost my sister. But she's sitting right here next to me. She's awake, and moving, and even if she can't speak or remember anything yet, she's still Emmeryn. Maribelle told me what happened. That you told her to Rescue Emm after she had fallen. And then, after we got away from the Plegians, that you were the one that wanted to see if she'd maybe survived, and that she had already given up. But you never gave up on her, even when the effort of healing her made you pass out. You saved my sister, Randy. Thank you."

I suddenly find the floor between my boots really interesting to look at. "I didn't do anything worth being thanked for. It's my fault she's sustained this damage."

"If we go back far enough, each of us could probably think of something we did that connects us to what happened. For me, I think maybe if I had been more firm with Emm about not leaving, she wouldn't have left. She wouldn't have been captured, and we never would have needed to save her in the first place. I know Chrom thinks something similar. But we can't afford to think like that, Randy. It's not any one person's fault that this happened. But the fact that she's alive at all? You're responsible for that. So you can wipe that frown off your face, because if you don't, I'll start thinking you're not glad you saved her. Got it?" Lissa says, slugging me in the shoulder, but much more gently than usual.

I remember what Robin said before. " _You're not the only one at fault, Randall."_ Can I really allow myself to think that?

I look up at her, then look at Emmeryn next to her. The Exalt is staring at me, a strange expression on her face. It's not sad exactly, but it resembles it. Is it pity? I force a smile for her sake.

"Hey Emmeryn. I know it's going to be tough for you for a while, but for what it's worth, I'm definitely glad we saved you. It was incredibly brave, what you did. Now you can leave the rest to us. We'll achieve the peace you worked so hard and sacrificed so much for," I say, maintaining my smile throughout. It seems to work, as her expression softens to a near-smile as well.

Lissa leans over to give me a quick, extremely tight hug. "Really. Thank you, Randy." She stands up and starts heading for the door. "Maribelle says that I need to make sure I'm giving Emm her space, so I'm gonna head outside for a little. I'll see you later, Emm and Randy."

"Yeah, see you later," I say as she hops outside. Emmeryn makes a sort of 'muh' sound on seeing her sister leave.

The noise of rustling fabric from behind me reminds me of the other person I came here to see. I turn and head toward the front of the wagon to Frederick, who looks pretty out of sorts. His butler outfit has been stripped down some, leaving him in a thin white undershirt and dark cloth shorts. It's a little trippy to see his calves. Since I assume they've just about never seen the light of day, they're astonishingly pale. His hair, while never exactly spick and span in the past, is impressively messy.

At first I thought he might be asleep, but he startles me by opening his eyes when I get close.

"I was awake from the moment you came in, Randall," he says, his throat very evidently parched. He pauses to take a long sip from a canteen by his side. "I heard what you and milady Lissa talked about. I didn't realize before just how instrumental you personally were in saving the life of milady Emmeryn. I hope you know how thankful I am for that."

I shift around. "If I had acted more quickly, I could have probably saved her memories as well. I could have saved your spine. There were things I could have done, and should have done, but I didn't. I'm sorry."

I realize I almost repeated what Robin said this morning verbatim.

To my surprise, he chuckles. "Randall, come now. You must allow us some degree of agency. I'm a grown man, and the Exalt a grown woman. You can let us take some responsibility for our own actions."

"But, I—"

"Randall. Please. I don't need to hear your apology, because as far as I am concerned, there is nothing for which you should apologize. I am alive, and Exalt Emmeryn is alive. In fact, every Shepherd is alive. Have you any idea how fortunate we are?"

The enduring fatigue of our eight-run battle comes to mind. "I think I have some idea."

"We stormed the capital of Plegia and emerged with zero Ylissean casualties. Of course, the Feroxi heroes who came to our aid will be remembered for their noble sacrifice, but we in the Shepherds led the charge. Robin's and your ingenious plan to use Nowi, Ricken, and Donnel as a single unit was inspired. Your quick thinking to Rescue Cordelia was superb. Your taking charge of the extraction and healing of milady Emmeryn was… nothing short of heroic. Randall, I owe you a debt I could never repay." His voice takes on a strained tone, as if fighting back tears. "I thought I might never see milady again. But now she is back in safe hands."

"I never knew you were so close to the Exalt, Frederick," I say.

He gets his emotions under control again. "Of course I am. First and foremost, I am her knight. You would not know this, but for most of my life, I have served milady Emmeryn, not her younger siblings. It was only after the foundation of the Shepherds some six or seven years ago that I was reassigned by milady to keep milord Chrom, and later milady Lissa as well, safe from harm. Until that time I had been her steadfast bodyguard and servant from a young age," he explains.

"So you grew up with Emmeryn, then?"

"Perhaps not quite." He considers for a moment. "Randall, in my telling you this, I hope you understand that any doubts I had of you before are hereby erased for all time. If I may, I would like to tell you my story, such as it is."

I've been waiting for so long to earn his trust. But now that I have it, I'm not sure if I've really earned it. Even so, I nod my head. "Of course. Thank you, Frederick."

He sits up and pulls himself with his arms, rotating so that he can sit with his back against the wagon wall. "You see, I began life as a commoner. I lived in West Sedgar province, so of course when Gideon's War began, my home was right in the middle of the zone of conflict." I should probably learn my Ylissean provinces at some point, actually. "I was little more than a stable hand, thirteen years of age, when I was finally drafted to the Ylissean army. That was the last year of the war, and lack of personnel had driven the army to desperation. I had to learn swordsmanship in very short order, but somehow, perhaps because I was no stranger to hefting tools, combat came to me very naturally. Though I was young, I proved to be better as a soldier than I had ever been as a farmer."

"And it was by distinguishing yourself on the battlefield that you got a gig with the royal family when the war was finished," I say.

He points a finger at me. "Precisely. However, it did not start out that way. Nothing could have prepared me for when I first met the Exalt herself. Though I knew she was a mere nine years old, the young woman I met already had an air of maturity, intelligence, and confidence about her that I have seen few fully grown adults replicate in my life since then. Even so, brazen lad of fourteen that I was at the time, I knelt before her and swore fealty to her family. But it turned out that was not what she had wanted from me at all. Instead, she offered me money by way of apology for my having been drafted in the first place, and asked me to return home.

"However, I knew by then where my true talents lay. I pleaded with her to allow me to remain a soldier after peace had been brokered. While I believe she intended to tell me that it would be impossible, she must have seen something in the look in my eye that changed her mind. She told me that she would allow it, but that I had to swear to obey her personally. I was to take no order from any Council member, nobleman, general, or anyone else. I was happy to accept her conditions, but it was not until years later that I realized why she had demanded this of me. She intended to never order me to war, no matter the cost. I think she must have realized that the best way to keep a rowdy teenager like myself contained was to keep him close.

"And keep me close she did. I began proper studies during this time. I learned reading and writing, etiquette and decorum, everything a proper gentleman must learn in due course. Over time, I came to prefer the life of a servant to the life of a soldier I had once craved. It was because of the look in her eyes when I would perform her some service or other. She always showed sincere and gracious gratitude for even the smallest of tasks. I realized that I desired to see milady's smile more than anything else, and I would work tirelessly to earn it from her."

It finally hits me. "You loved her."

He hesitates a moment before going on. "Yes. I would do anything for her. When she asked me to leave her side and care for her precious siblings, it was for love of her that I cleft myself from her side and joined the ranks of the Shepherds. And because I would do anything for her, I will do anything for milord Chrom or milady Lissa. My loyalty to the family I hope is beyond question."

"Oh, trust me. It is," I assure him.

"And so, here we are. After half a dozen years with the Shepherds, it seems I will need to find a new way to be useful to them." He chuckles halfheartedly. "If only I hadn't been so careless. Even so, I won't allow myself to live in regret, and I abhor the idea of you doing so either."

There's so much I want to say. And so little of it I know how to. "Thank you for trusting in me, Frederick."

"Thank you for putting up with my distrust for as long as you have," he replies.

"I gave you little reason to trust me. I understand," I say.

He nods. "That is true. Or at least, it was. But now your actions have spoken for you. I am proud to call you a friend."

"And I you. But I want to know. Does Chrom or Lissa know how you felt about Emmeryn?" I ask.

His shoulders stiffen a little. "Feel. Present tense. Make no mistake, Randall: I will continue to live in service to the Exalt for as long as she lives. I will be at her side every step of the way as she makes her way toward recovery, until such time as she decides she is no longer in need of my service." He relaxes again. "But in answer to your question, I do not believe so. I have never brought it up with milord, but he is hardly the type to indulge in such personal talk most of the time. Or perhaps, more accurately, it is not in the character of our relationship to discuss such things. And as for milady, I suspect that if she knew, she would have somehow acted on it by now." He can't hide the slight grimace forming on his face at the thought of it.

Just like how I can't hide the smile growing on mine. Despite everything, I find myself finally able to smile for a moment.

"Does anyone aside from me know?" I ask.

The levity drains from his face. "Well, there was one person who knew," he says at last.

"Knew?" I ask, before realizing what he means. I look over my shoulder at Emmeryn, who gives me a serene half-smile. I flash her a quick smile before turning back to Frederick. "You don't mean…"

"Yes. It wasn't long ago that I found I could keep it to myself no longer. After one of our regular Council meetings, I allowed milord to go ahead while I gave an individual report of his personal progress to milady, as had become my habit over the years. But after this report, I was compelled by the burning in my heart to express my long-hidden love for her. To my surprise, she smiled and said, 'I hope I don't seem conceited in saying that I suspected you felt this way. After our many years together, I think I've gotten quite good at reading you, Frederick.'" He gets a little choked up as he goes on. "'And of course, you have been in my heart for nearly all that time as well. I love you, Frederick,' she said. You can hardly imagine my elation. But she went on, 'Still, I ask that you be patient just a bit longer. Our country grows more stable by the day, but we are still reeling from the effects of my father's mistakes. Please wait just a little more.' What could I do but agree? We embraced then, but I dared not kiss her for fear of overstepping my bounds. Admittedly, I wish now that I had. I told that of course I could wait, for as long as she felt necessary.

"And then, perhaps a week later, we met Robin. We met you. Everything… happened. And now…"

"Frederick…" is all I can bring myself to say.

He sniffs and pulls himself together. "But now I have a chance. A chance to prove my loyalty all over again. And when milady recovers from this tragic injury, I sincerely hope that she will remember the love I have always had for her." He takes a long, slow breath, then pulls himself back onto his bedroll. "In any case, I think for now that I will rest. Thank you for listening to me, Randall. Thank you for everything."

"Frederick, if there's anything I can ever do for you, or for Emmeryn, I hope you'll let me know," I say after a moment.

He gives me a small, genuine smile. "I appreciate it, Randall."

I gently lay my hand on Emmeryn's shoulder and say, "Good night, Emmeryn," as I leave the wagon, but she's already gone to sleep.

* * *

Today has been a long day.

I'd say that I've been keeping to myself this evening, but that implies that I had to do anything to make that happen. When I sat a good couple dozen feet from the fire everyone else is crowded around, no one seemed to question it. It's probably more accurate to say that everyone is still giving me some space for the time being. Some very welcome space, at least for today.

"Randall."

Well, there goes that.

"Hey Chrom," I say as he slowly sits beside me on the cloak I've laid out to serve as a blanket on the sand. "Doing okay?"

"I think we both know I'm not," he says in a raw, tattered voice.

"Fair enough. What's up?"

"I realized I had never apologized for the other day. When I accused you of not caring for Maribelle, and we fought. I took things too far. I should never have let my anger get ahold of me like that. I'm sorry," he says, staring off at the fire some twenty-odd feet away. "And then on top of that, I had Maribelle ask you to keep it a secret from everyone else. That was cowardly of me on several levels. You deserve better from your captain."

I realize with a start that our fight was only like four days ago. It feels like a lifetime has passed since then. It would have been funny if what he said hadn't struck me so particularly.

"Well Chrom, I definitely know how scary it can be to learn what it feels like to lose control," I say in a low voice to match his. He looks at me questioningly. "I started to learn how to use dark magic today. It was… alarming. To see my emotions made manifest the way they were. I didn't like what I saw either."

"I didn't know you could use dark magic."

"I've only used it once before. In the battle with the Grimleal, I used their leader's tome to take his head off. But I…" I'm embarrassed to remember how it came about. "I was angry with Robin, and I wanted to take out that anger on something. So I had Tharja start teaching me. But it was shocking. I don't know if I was ready."

He chuckles humorlessly. "Life rarely waits for us to be ready, I suppose. In Ylisse, we don't have a lot of dark mages. It's not really our thing. It's more common in Plegia, probably unsurprisingly. But as I understand it, it's powered by its user's passion, right?"

I nod. "Yeah. And when I let my anger loose on Tharja, it frightened me. It was too easy. Too… fun, at least in the moment. And then when I saw what I had done… Anyway, I'm saying this because I want you to know that when I say I forgive you for losing your temper, I'm coming from a place of total understanding."

He nods quietly for a few seconds. "Thank you, Randall. Among everything else going on, I thought I could make at least one thing right."

"I can empathize. Seems like everything's gone to hell in a handbasket all at once."

He thinks for a moment. "Do you know whose idea it was to found the Shepherds?"

"I always assumed it was yours. Am I wrong?" I ask.

"Yeah. It was Emm's." He doesn't look right at me as he speaks. "She's so damned strong, Randall. By far the strongest person I've ever known. When she took over the role of Exalt, she was only nine years old. Our father had just died, but she wasn't given time to come to terms with that. The coronation was rushed, the funeral doubly so. Of course, once she was placed on the throne, the Council couldn't move quickly enough to leave her out of every important decision from that point forward. Only trouble was, Emm was already too smart to get left out. While the rest of the Council floundered and deliberated on what to do about the war now that our father was gone, she stormed into their chamber and made her demands clear. The war was to end, immediately. Ylisse would seize no land, plunder no cities, and take no prisoners of war. We were to pull out immediately upon securing a peace treaty with Plegia. And the Council made it happen. Lord Aventine made it happen, more than anyone else. Though King Hartyr by that time was already terminally ill and bound to his deathbed, negotiations made with Generals Campari Leone and Mustafa Issachar were deemed legitimate, and they were able to manage a peace treaty within days. It was a miracle. But it wasn't her last one.

"She brought the miracle home with her. The people were still whipped up into the frenzy our father had left them in when he died. When they were told that the war was over, that peace had been negotiated, many could hardly believe it. Even worse was when they learned that despite all we had lost, we had made no extraordinary demands from Plegia outside of the cessation of aggression. We had gained no territory. No money. No resources. Nothing but death. Emmeryn made the people recognize the war for what it had been: a waste of human life.

"And they hated her for it. She was a little girl, but threats against her life came nonetheless. If you've ever taken a close look at her face, maybe you noticed the little scar on the left side of her lower lip. That was a rock, thrown by one of our own citizens. One of our people. She was ten when that man tried to stone his Exalt to death. When he was detained, they found a bag full of rocks on his person. Even though Emm pardoned him almost instantly, he professed his hatred of the Exalted family just as fervently. That was the legacy of Exalt Gideon." His fist clenches, making the leather of his glove squeak loudly.

"But she wouldn't be deterred. Her pursuit of peace was so extreme that her next step was demilitarization. She often joked it was the biggest word she knew at that age. Even with the Council making most of the decisions in government, this was one matter on which she wouldn't budge for anyone or anything. She made an appeal to divine authority, that the chosen of Naga had spoken. No one dared to openly defy the will of Naga like that. And so she began. The regular army was disbanded, its few remaining soldiers sent home to rebuild their villages, most of which were nearly emptied of able-bodied people. Those who had been forced into the draft were compensated with whatever meager funds could be scrounged from the treasury before they too were sent home. She reluctantly agreed to keep a personal royal guard for protection of herself and her siblings, but even then she downsized the guard significantly.

"Even so, just because peace has successfully been sued for, that doesn't mean the hostility dies with it. Along the border, skirmishes continued to break out for years after the war had ended. Local nobles had to rely on their own personal guards to repel invaders, as there was no official national border guard since the disbandment of the military proper. Though eventually these skirmishes died down for a time, Emm endured a lot of anger from the western provinces for her refusal to rebuild the army."

He hesitates for a moment. "She endured it from me as well. I couldn't understand why she would allow our people to suffer if we had the means to prevent it. She told me that there were still no soldiers to spare, that every town and village in Ylisse was still in the process of rebuilding and needed every person's help to make that happen. The rarer the skirmishes became, the less my arguments against her rang true. But even so, I didn't forget. When I turned ten years old, I was given the Falchion. To this day, I have no idea if Emm can use it. When it was offered to her, she flatly refused to touch the weapon. I had no such reservations. I trained with it whenever I could spare the time, and sometimes when I couldn't. My studies suffered, but I couldn't ever train enough to staunch my frustration. Our people still suffered, but Emm wouldn't give up her dream of a totally demilitarized state.

"The skirmishes became less and less frequent, but as you saw in Southtown all those months ago, they never really went away. And neither did my frustration with my sister. For years I trained, getting more and more skilled with the blade thanks to, among other things, Frederick's teaching. Every day I learned more, growing stronger and, if anything, more hot-headed. Every time a report came in of one of our western provinces being attacked, I renewed my plea to Emm to allow me to do something, anything, to protect the people. To go out and fight off those who would harm our countrymen. I think it was out of fear for my safety that she denied me for as long as she did.

"Finally, when I was sixteen, she at last granted my wish. She told me that if it was truly what I wanted, that I would lead a group of elite soldiers in the service of the people. We would be called the Shepherds, to remind us of our duty to protect the citizens. Every member of the Shepherds was to be hand-picked by me, trained by me, and paid the wages I saw fit to give. This was itself a test; we had just about no money to give after everything the war had cost. I would have to find people so committed to the cause that money wouldn't matter to them.

"Sully was the first person to join the Shepherds. She comes from the wealthy van Bourgaeana family, so money was not an issue for her. And in return, the Shepherds had something for her: the chance to prove by merit that she was every bit the knight her family title made her by birth. It helped that we had known each other since we were kids, as while I was learning swordsmanship from Frederick, she was learning horsemanship from him as well. Stahl joined not long after, for what I suspect are similar reasons, though he never talked much about it. Once Emm was convinced that I was truly committed to forming the group she had proposed, she allowed Frederick to officially join us as well. Far as I was concerned, that was as good a seal of approval as we were going to get.

"One day, not long after we finally allowed Lissa and Maribelle to join the Shepherds, Emm held me back after dinner one day to speak with me. She said, 'Thank you for keeping our people safe. For holding that sword when I cannot.'"

He finally looks at me. "Do you get it? Even in spite of her unwavering stance on demilitarization, she understood what being kept inert at home was doing to me. She understood what I needed, and in spite of what she herself believed about violence, she found a way to keep me from going stir-crazy while staying true to her principles. She knew the role I could play in protecting the halidom, and she helped me fill that role with all the support she could give. She's an amazing woman, Randall. I'm lucky to call her my sister."

I'm not sure what I can say after all that. "It sounds like it. But why are you telling me all this?"

He sighs. "I'm scared, Randall. More scared than I've ever been. When I think about everything Emm gave for her country, how strong she's been all these years, and then it hits me all over again that I might have to fill that role. If Emm's mind never recovers, I'm really the only choice to take over as Exalt. I'm the one on whom this burden will fall. Just like she had to finish the last war when she was just a child, now I'm afraid it's up to me to finish this one. But she tried to finish this war herself too, and what had worked some sixteen years ago didn't have an impact at all on Gangrel. I can't do the same thing she did. He didn't listen to her pleas for peace. I don't know what else to do but continue to fight. Continue the battling, the killing."

His head dips into his hands. "But you know what sort of man I am. I can't even control my anger among my friends and allies, let alone my enemies. How can I trust myself to lead our country into a time of peace? How can I know I won't end up like… him? Like Gideon?"

I look at the fire, counting the silhouettes of the people gathered around it. "Because you won't," I say. "We won't let you. You brought us into the Shepherds so that we can protect people. What sort of Shepherds would we be if we couldn't even protect our leader from the worst of himself? You can count on us, Chrom."

He lifts his head to look at me. "You've seen me lose control so many times. Not only when we fought, but more than once during the battle. It was only Robin holding me back at Golgotha that saved me from getting everyone killed. And then, you stopped me from taking my duel with Mustafa past the point of no return. Even as I sit here, I don't know if I was even trying to win that duel. But that's not all. Sumia knew how to knock me out of my funk back in Ný Von. My sisters have both reined in my anger more times than I can count. And then, of course…" He looks away, and though I can't see it in the dim evening light, I suspect he's reddening as well.

I get it. "So all those weeks ago, when you were telling me why you weren't interested in Robin, that's what that was about. You told me you wanted someone who reminded you to pull back from battle rather than pressed you deeper into it." He can't meet my eye. "You meant Maribelle."

"W-well, it's hardly a mystery at this point anyway," he says to the fire. "I'm pretty sure I liked her since the day I first saw her. Seeing the way she cares not only for my sister, but all her people. It's inspiring. She reminds me of the sort of leader I'd like to be. One who doesn't just stand above his people, but with them. Among them."

I don't know how to respond to this. But seeing his face in that worried expression, I know he's waiting to hear how I'll take this admission.

How do I want to respond to this?

"She's pretty amazing, huh?" I finally settle for.

"Yeah, she is."

The moment of silence that passes between us is anything from a few seconds long to a few hours. It's a little hard to tell.

"There you guys are!" We're saved from the eternal awkward standoff by Lissa's intervention. "What are you doing all the way out here? It's a lot warmer by the fire, you know."

"We're gossipping about you, actually," I say. "So when are you and Lon'qu getting married?"

The reaction from both siblings is instant.

"Wh-what? Me and–"

"Randall, what are you going on–"

"–never in my life, he doesn't even talk to–"

"–is way, _way_ too young to be marrying anybody–"

"–not to mention that he hates like, _all_ women or something–"

"–only met him just a couple months ago–"

"–well okay, maybe not _all_ women, but definitely me–"

"–I'd probably have to kill him, honestly–"

"Jeez, guys, relax. It's jokes," I interrupt both of them, stifling laughter. "Talk about uptight."

They both fall silent. "O-oh, of course," Lissa says.

"Right," Chrom mutters.

I think that might be the sign that today has been long enough. I notice how heavy my eyelids feel after this rollercoaster of a day. I get up from the ground and shake out my cloak before rolling it up and stowing it under my arm. "I think I'm going to call it in here, guys. Good night. And Chrom? Thanks," I say as I start walking toward my tent.

"Uh, yeah. Good night, Randall," I hear Chrom say behind me as I head to bed.

* * *

If you can believe it, I sleep pretty well for once. I dream of what I imagine a young, lovesick Frederick must have been like, trying to impress his tiny yet intimidating Exalt. I hope that his devotion will be strong enough to face everything they will have to deal with in the future, even if it will seem impossible. But after seeing the determination set deep in his eyes, I allow myself to believe it will be enough, and then some.

* * *

When I wake up, all I can think about is the awful note I left things on with Robin yesterday. Despite having cleared the air with a lot of people, and taking a lot of stress off my mind in the process, I definitely shat the bed when it comes to how I handled my conversation with Robin.

My desire to make things right motivates me to power through my drowsiness and claw out of bed. When I look outside the tent, I can see that the sun hasn't yet won its battle with the horizon yet. I bet she's still asleep.

Fortunately, I think I remember where she usually sets up her tent relative to the others. Let's see here…

I open the tent flap.

I shut the tent flap, much more urgently.

I was not right about which tent was Robin's.

Sorry Miriel. Sorry Kellam.

"What are you doing?" I hear behind me.

"Nothing!" I say too loudly and too quickly. I whirl around. It's Robin, looking none too pleased. "Oh, there you are. I, uh, wanted to talk to you, actually."

Robin raises an eyebrow. "Come to report on how day one of dark magic training went?"

I rub the back of my neck guiltily. "Not exactly. Can we go somewhere else?"

She nods stiffly, and she starts heading for the command wagon. I follow along.

When we're inside, she turns to me expectantly. "What is it?"

I launch into what I have to say as quickly as I can. "Look, I know I was a dick yesterday. I was making it all about me, when you're right. We should be focusing on getting ourselves out of danger and on forming a strategy to end the war. We can't afford to wallow in the things that didn't go our way. I talked with Frederick yesterday. He kinda helped me put in perspective just how lucky we are. How much we've accomplished. I was so hell-bent on making myself miserable for the things I wish I'd done that I didn't think about what you or anyone else must've been feeling." I take a breath. "I'm sorry, is all I'm saying, I guess."

Though she still looks miffed at first, it softens after a moment. "Just… are you alright, Randall?"

I have no choice but to shrug. "I really don't know. In some ways, I'm getting better maybe. In others, maybe worse. I can't even tell anymore."

"We have that in common then," she says. "But… thank you for apologizing. Believe me, I understand how it feels to think everything that's gone wrong is your fault."

"After the conversations I had yesterday, I think a lot of people might be thinking that way. But I think we're going to get better, too," I say.

She's quiet for a moment. "Jeez, Randall, yesterday was supposed to be _my_ apology. You're a hard man to say sorry to, you know that?"

"I… have no idea how I'm supposed to respond to that," I say. "Am I supposed to apologize for being hard to apologize to?"

She glares for a moment, but I see the corners of her scowl cracking, and soon a little smile sneaks through. "You're impossible sometimes."

Said the video game character to the Earthling from America, an entire reality away.

…

I just realized I don't mean that. Not the America thing, but the video game thing. The girl standing in front of me is a person. A full person. I remember back at Golgotha, when she vaporized her head to take us to the second run. I looked away then. I couldn't watch. That's not like me. At least, it's not like I was when I got here. Even as recently as the Border Pass, when Maribelle fell from the cliff to her death, I can't in good conscience say that I really cared. I definitely didn't look away, even when I saw it coming.

And then as Cordelia flew up toward Emmeryn, and my old plan was going to come to pass, I found I couldn't bear it. I didn't want to use Cordelia and her death as a tool to convince Robin to let Emmeryn drop anymore.

Even yesterday. What happened with Tharja. I almost feel nauseous just remembering that.

Whatever my dreams have been telling me, I think the reality is that I haven't thought of this as a game in quite a while.

"Uh, Randall?" Robin waves her hand in front of my face.

I snap out of it. "Yeah, no, nothing. Got it," I say blankly in an attempt at a catch-all for whatever she was just saying.

She rolls her eyes. "I'm tired too, Randall, but we can't be spacing out."

"I wasn't spacing out!" I protest.

"Uh huh. Your head was waaay up here," she says, holding her hand as far above her head as she can reach. "No wonder you couldn't hear me all the way up there."

It occurs to me that she's trying to get me to cheer up. First she tried apologizing, now she's moved on to joking around with me. She's still looking out for me. Even with everything I said to her yesterday.

Despite the whirlwind of thoughts still spinning in my head, I give her the smile I know she's aiming for.

"Thanks, Robin," I say.

She lowers her hand and cocks her head a little, making one of her twin tails hang freely toward the ground. "I, uh… you're welcome?"

Despite the evident confusion in her expression, she smiles too.

"By the way," I say, suddenly remembering something that happened yesterday. "You dropped an F-bomb when we were arguing yesterday. I hope I'm not too bad an influence on you."

"F-bomb?"

I grin. "You know, the 'fuck' word."

She gasps. "I said that? Oh my gods, I didn't even notice at the time."

"Damn, you really were mad," I scoff.

"Well next time, maybe don't piss me off so fuckin' much!"

After everything that's happened, getting to laugh over a little profanity is a welcome and sorely needed relief.

* * *

 _Gangrel grips the arm of his throne firmly._

" _And you're positive those were Mustafa's orders?"_

" _Y-yes, Your Highness. General Mustafa ordered us to stand down and allow the Ylisseans to pass unharmed," the young wyvern rider, still in his riding uniform, stammers._

" _And what was his reason for this? Was he just struck with the sudden urge to betray his country?" Gangrel asks through gritted teeth._

" _Initially, Your Highness, he said he planned to duel with Prince Chrom to determine whether the Ylisseans would be taken prisoner or allowed to go without a fight. It seemed that he was mainly focused on mitigating the number of Plegian soldiers that would have to die."_

" _What changed his mind, then?"_

" _Well, Your Highness, when he learned the Exalt had not in fact died in the battle at the Castle Plegia–"_

" _Wait. The Exalt lives?" Gangrel half-asks, half-hisses._

" _Y-yes, Your Highness. We all saw her brought forward, breathing but unconscious," the now terrified soldier says. "She was taken out of the Midmire without opposition. General Mustafa ordered us not to interfere."_

 _Gangrel takes several slow, deep breaths. "Thank you for your report, Private. Of course, for bringing me such an informative report, you would normally be rewarded for your effort and diligence. However, considering that your report consists in part of your admission that you let the number one enemy of the state escape custody without so much as a fight…"_

" _Y… Your Highness?"_

 _The king stands and draws his sword._

 _The young man stands and attempts to flee for the door, but he is far too slow to outpace the bolt of lightning shot from Gangrel's Levin sword that boils the blood in his veins before he even hits the ground._

 _Gangrel turns to the grey-haired man standing off to the side. "Well, it appears things are getting interesting once again. Campari, this is your chance for redemption. I want this message relayed to every soldier that heard that harlot's blasted honeyed lies: you have been lied to. The Exalt of Ylisse has played you all for fools, taking advantage of your goodwill in an effort to make you easier to oust from the lands you have rightfully earned." He gestures widely as he goes on. "Though she feigned a spirit of self-sacrifice and love, her apparent death was nothing more than a ruse. She lives, and is currently escaping our country with the aid of traitors who will be rooted out posthaste. She is exactly the sort of tyrannical despot that her father was, and doubly conniving by virtue of her public persona of 'peace.' Under the guise of a peaceful ruler, she would have us all quashed under the weight of Ylisse's boot. But you all will stand together. Stand strong. Stand against the oppression of Ylisse, a country that has lorded its successes over us for too long. Stand with your king, who now joins the fight himself to stave off the vile heathens whose reign will soon be at an end." He looks again at the general. "Do you have all that?"_

 _He inclines his head as much as he can in his thick armor shell. "Yes, Your Highness. I will see to its distribution myself."_

 _Gangrel nods, inspecting the blade of his Levin sword as he speaks. "Excellent. And as for our mutual friend, the former-general Mustafa, I shall see to him myself. I have some questions for him."_

* * *

 **A/N: Hello and welcome back to ThreeDollarBratwurst Wonders If Maybe This Story Should Be Rated M After All. I'll be your host.**

 **But really, I hope you guys liked this one. I exposition bombed the _hell_ out of this chapter, but I felt like if I don't explain some of this stuff now, it'll never get explained. And I hope it's clear by now I don't usually waste details; things tend to come back around, and I think pretty much everything covered in this chapter is going to be important to someone someday. So if you made it out the other side, congratulations!**

 **Even more than usual, Syntaxis and Mixed Valence have my thanks for their beta reading. Arguably the saddest moment of this chapter was pretty much entirely spawned by Syntaxis prodding at my weaker sections and encouraging me to maximize the characters I've been building. So if Frederick made you sad at any point, you know now whose fault that is~ Also, if you're not reading An Odd Awakening and Earthborne by now, then you're officially a goose. Honk. I'm having a ton of fun throwing crazy-ass ideas back and forth with MV, so take it from me: the chapters coming up from him are gonna be crazy fun. Both of their stories have a lot to get excited about.  
**

 **Also, if you haven't already, check out the subreddit r/FireEmblemFanfiction that Syntaxis started up the other week. The more life we can breathe into it, the better! And here is your out of context Syntaxis quote of the week: "** **Here's a quick preview of her new catchphrase: Maikuru-oniichan daisuki desu desu doki doki pantsu kyaaa hazukashii nyaa"**

 **So after more than a year of writing this story, I'm finally considering giving it a proper cover. I'd like to try and commission an artist to create a cover image for me, and to that end, I want to know what you guys think. On my profile, you'll find a poll where y'all will have a say in who makes the cover. Also, if anyone among my readers is/knows a really talented visual artist, feel free to PM me with some info so I can get this ball rolling. It'll be exciting stuff, to be sure.**

 **As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**


	26. Ch 26: Gregor, King of Roasts

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 26: Gregor, King of Roasts  
**

"Oh my God. Merry Christmas to me," I gasp on my first glimpse of that beautiful, lustrously shining body of freshwater. "I'm gonna dunk my head in that oasis so hard, just you try and stop me." Robin sighs, evidently quite done with being cooped up with me in the command wagon all day.

"We shouldn't be stopping here. For one thing, there's no guarantee we can trust these people, even if it worked out for us last time. And even if we can, it will slow us down too much to stop for the night this early in the day. We can easily get at least a few more miles out of today," Robin grumbles, still not totally over getting outvoted by the vast majority of the Shepherds who voted to try and stop here overnight.

"Robin, be cool girl, damn. Morale is not an insignificant factor in a successful campaign, either. We just had a really trying month-plus of desert shit, brutal fighting, and emotional sucker-punches. Everyone needs to take a breath, or this army might just explode. Hell, I need to at the very least," I say.

She frowns. "Maybe. But it's not a very efficient solution."

"Neither is mutiny," I try to joke, but it doesn't land. She just frowns harder. "Anyway, we're just about here. Let's go see if we're gonna get attacked."

We pull the wagons into the oasis town that should have been the site of our battle with the Grimleal, breathing a collective sigh of relief as the wispy, bearded town elder and his entourage come out to greet us without weapons in hand.

"Ah, the Shepherds of Ylisse have returned after so brief an absence." He turns to Chrom. "Of course, when we heard your Exalt's voice projecting across the sky, we realized what her intentions were. Though her message resonates with us, you have our condolences," the elder says kindly, inclining his head.

"Condolences?" Chrom starts to ask, before correcting himself. "Ah, right. Thank you, sir." It seems Robin has made sure to get him on the same page with the ruse we hope to pull. "I know it's a lot to ask, especially when things are so contentious. But could you allow us to stay the night in your town once again? It's nearly nightfall, and we at the very least need to resupply our water if we're going to make it back across the desert. It wasn't originally our plan to go back the way we came, you see."

The elder smiles behind his beard. "Why, there's no need to ask. After all, your forces are mighty, and our defenses comparatively feeble. If anyone asks, we were incapable of defying you from passing through unharmed." He winks.

Chrom smiles back. "We are in your debt."

The elder starts to walk back toward his lodge, no doubt looking to escape the late afternoon heat. "Suppose we can call it even. After the service you did us in eliminating that Grimleal sect," he says, waving as he goes.

Once everyone disperses to start settling in for the evening, I proceed directly to the oasis' edge and dunk my head in. It is by far the best I've felt since we got to the desert.

* * *

"What kind of messed up world is it where getting to do laundry is the best part of my day?" I ask my scrub brush incredulously, hunched over my tub of water and brushing the dried mud out of my robes as best I can. The brush doesn't respond, but Stahl does.

"I dunno, Randall. Sometimes just getting to do the little things, get back to basics, is the healthiest thing for people. I know whenever I was in a bad mood as a kid, all I had to do was tidy up my room a bit, and just like that, things didn't seem so bad," he says, washing his shirts in a tub of his own.

"Yeah, okay, thanks Doctor Peterson," I reply, rolling my eyes. "If I see any cats I'll be sure to pet them." Satisfied with the state of my robes, I sling them over the same branch (this is the only tree I think I've seen in like a month, I note) where my singular shirt, pair of socks, and pair of pants are also drying. And yeah, I washed the underwear too, but I opted to put them back on as soon as they were clean rather than play the game of How Will My Life Turn into a Shitty Ecchi This Week again.

I really need to expand my wardrobe.

"Not sure how that relates, but yeah, that's probably a good stress relief too," he says with a smile.

I sigh. "Nevermind. It's just nice to feel clean for once."

Draping his last shirt over his branch, he stretches with a satisfied groan. "That's for sure. I think everyone's in need of a detox after everything that's happened lately."

I scoff. "Detox? I'm looking to retox, if anything. Gregor and Gaius were talking earlier about hitting up our favorite Plegian bartender, and I'm not about to miss that."

Stahl raises an eyebrow. "You know, that might not be so bad, actually. Now that we're back on the road, maybe we can afford a night to just unwind a bit. Spending some time with friends seems like just what the cleric ordered."

I give him a knowing look. "You thinking of bringing Panne along?"

He grins sheepishly. "I might be considering it. She did say she wasn't opposed to the idea of doing that again, right?"

"Oh yeah. Gregor and I left you and Panne alone at the end of the night last time we were here. What happened?" I ask.

He rubs the back of his neck embarrassedly. "Nothing to speak of."

"Aw, come on! You're gonna leave me hanging like that?" I protest.

"I mean it!" he insists. "We chatted for a while about how I was coming along with making food that her taguel palate can tolerate, but not long after that she said her head felt light and she wanted to sleep. I didn't have the courage to say anything else except good night. It was as tame an ending as possible."

I'm left no choice but to believe him. I shrug. "Alrighty then. The saga continues, I suppose."

"Well anyway, what about you? You bringing anyone along?" he asks.

"What, like a girl?"

"No, like a horse. Yeah, a girl. How are things with–" He stops himself, looking a little ashamed. "I mean, you know…"

I get it now. "Oh. I hadn't thought about it. I mean, things have been kinda weird in the first place, not to mention all this craziness that's got everyone dialed up to eleven since we got to the castle."

"Well, maybe that's all the more reason to invite her out. Try and reintroduce some normalcy?" Stahl offers.

"Huh… Maybe you're right. I dunno, I guess I'll think about it," I reply. I haven't really talked to Maribelle much the past few days. I've seen her around, of course, but it just hasn't felt like there's much to say these days. It would be weird to talk about how happy we were, back in Themis. It would be painful to talk about how much we still grieve for the friends we lost there, and it hasn't been long enough that we can talk without reservation about the good memories we have of them. It's too soon to dig into these more recent tragedies, too. And whenever we try to have small talk, it isn't long before one or both of us says something that reminds us of all the things we can't talk about yet. Which of course kills said small talk in an instant. It's been rough. Who'd have thought that a couple that have only known each other for a few months could already have so much history that they become conversation killers around each other?

But then I consider the other side of this. Maybe that's exactly why we need to spend an evening with friends for once, just letting off steam. I recall how upset Chrom said it made her when she was essentially left alone by the rest of the Shepherds following our breakup. Maybe it's a good idea after all.

We have to pause the conversation when a sharp wolf whistle cuts through and prompts us to look over toward town. Sully is walking toward us, her own collection of dirty clothes slung over her arm. She looks pretty different without her armor; with only a sleeveless black turtleneck and some simple brown pants, she seems less… scary. Definitely less red.

"I see you've opted for the 'less is more' look today, Randall. Pretty confident in your physique there, huh?" she says.

I resist the urge to cover myself; I know a challenge when I hear one. I plant my hands on my hips defiantly. "And why wouldn't I be?"

She shrugs. "I mean, it's not the _worst_ I've ever seen, but you won't see me writing home about it."

"Hey, it's not like it's my job to be bulked up or anything. I just have to be able to hold up a metal stick sometimes. What's your excuse, Twiggyarms?" I shoot back with a grin.

She reddens. "It's called _lean muscle_ , you arse. And if you doubt my strength, come over here and test it out yourself." She drops her clothes next to the oasis and gestures to me with a finger, assuming a fighting stance.

I wave both hands in a 'please don't pretzel my limbs' gesture without a second's hesitation. "Hard pass. It's just bants, dude."

She lowers her hands and shakes her head disappointedly. "Honestly, I was hoping you'd show a little bit more spine than that."

My shoulders slump. "Well, you came to the wrong person for that. I'm just a simple man trying to wash his only clothes in the world."

She chortles, scooping up her clothes again and grabbing an empty tub to fill with her own laundry water. "I didn't know you were much for the ascetic aspect of priesthood."

"Not a priest. And anyway, I guess I just sorta forget to buy new clothes whenever we've been in towns. There's always something bigger going on, you know what I mean?"

Setting her tub beside mine and Stahl's, she sighs. "Hell's bells, don't I? I've been so high-strung lately that I'm almost inclined to say that fight at the Castle Plegia was a relief for me. Just getting it over with, I mean." She looks away. "Not to say that I don't wish it had gone differently, of course, but… you get what I'm saying."

Stahl nods. "Yeah, I get it. I won't deny feeling the same way, a little bit. I don't think it's wrong to admit that you're glad a battle's over, even if your friends got hurt. And even then, we managed to escape with no deaths. Looking back on the battle we fought, we really had no right to hope for that. The fact that we won the day alone is amazing." He puts forward his friendliest smile.

Despite his efforts, a less than comfortable silence falls over the three of us for a few moments.

"God damn do we need a drink," I say at last. A nervous laugh breaks out among us.

"Ain't that the truth?" Sully says. "Although, before that…" She narrows her eyes at me.

I feel a murderous intent.

Despite my scrambled efforts to escape, Sully is too swift for me. I'm not even sure what part of me got grabbed or how it was moved to get my body to flip around the way it does, but I find myself spinning rapidly in the air for a full two seconds before my world is consumed by chilling water. I spend a couple seconds figuring out which way is up before booking it for the surface.

I flip my hair out of my eyes and glare at the already cackling Sully. "Did you just judo flip me into the oasis?"

"That's for calling me Twiggyarms," she replies, folding her arms with a satisfied look on her face. Stahl joins her in laughing now.

* * *

Feeling considerably cleaner than I did earlier this afternoon, I decide to see how Frederick and Emmeryn are doing. Not long after we arrived in town, they were each moved with some assistance into the inn (with Emmeryn heavily clothed to avoid disclosing her identity). If it had been anyone but Frederick, I'm sure some objections would have been raised about a single man and woman sharing a private room like this, but this man is so above reproach that no one even bats an eye when he's carried in behind the Exalt. It helps that despite Emmeryn's discomfort with moving to any unfamiliar area, having Frederick and Lissa there to ease her into this new space seems to lighten her mood.

I think visiting them makes me feel better about all this. I kinda have to remind myself once in a while that not only are they not dead, but they're also improving every day. Keeps things in perspective, like Stahl was trying to do before.

Lon'qu standing outside the door clues me in as to who else is here.

"Do you ever get bored just standing outside? Why don't you ever hang with Emmeryn too?" I ask as I approach Frederick and Emmeryn's room.

Lon'qu stares at me. "Lissa seems to firmly believe that maintaining positive emotion around the Exalt is an essential element of helping her recover. Do you really think the Exalt would be uplifted or encouraged by my usual expression?"

I blink. "You might have a point."

He crosses his arms. "Hmph. Besides, one woman being forced into my company is plenty."

"Suit yourself. I'm heading in."

When I knock on the door and enter, I'm surprised to find Emmeryn standing up and taking a few unsteady strides. Even though Lissa is there, holding both of her sister's hands and guiding her across the room, it's still pretty damn impressive as far as I'm concerned.

I raise a hand at Frederick, who's sitting up against the headboard of his bed. "Howdy. You doing alright, Frederick?" I ask.

He nods soberly. "As always, I grow more accustomed to this new arrangement every day. Though naturally my arms were never particularly weak, I feel confident in saying that they grow stronger every day by virtue of pulling my prone form around when needed."

I smile. "I was gonna say, you're already looking pretty jacked. Any pain or anything feeling off?"

Lissa glances over at me. "Hey Randy. Don't worry, I already went through and made sure everything's okay."

"Oh, sorry Lissa. I don't mean to hijack your checkups or whatever. I just like to check in," I reply. I also wave at Emm, who looked over at me when Lissa turned to talk to me. Emm starts to wave back before Lissa takes her hand again to keep her steady.

"You're doing really good, sis. Now we're gonna tuuurn around, that's good, and now we'll go back to the bed," Lissa says slowly and gently as she guides Emmeryn back toward Frederick and the beds.

"Excellent form, milady. I couldn't be happier that you're making such progress," Frederick praises from his bed. Even though Emm visibly doesn't understand what he's saying, she still recognizes his tone and smiles at him. However, this distracts her enough that she stumbles and falls to a knee, hitting it hard against the floor.

"Ouch," she says, which makes everyone do a bit of a double-take.

"Did she just…?" I ask.

Lissa looks so happy she might cry. "She must have heard me when I nicked my finger on my bread knife the other day. She… she's talking."

Frederick is beaming. "Milady…"

Of course, all the heightened emotion in the room on top of the pain in her knee makes Emmeryn go from all smiles to all stress. She looks down at the floor, pain and shame evident on her face.

Lissa collects herself. "Oh, c'mere sis. Let's get you back up." She helps Emmeryn up by her shoulders, easing her over to the bedside and having her take a seat. "You did so good today. I'm so happy."

"I'm not an expert on head injuries, but this seems like a really rapid recovery. We've got every reason to celebrate, far as I'm concerned," I say, taking a seat in the chair in the corner.

Lissa smiles at me. "Right. How's everyone else doing? I've been kinda falling out of touch the last few days, what with… well, y'know."

"Well, Sully did some krav maga bullshit to make me do like a triple half gainer into the oasis earlier, so obviously we're both having a great day," I deadpan, holding up some of my still-damp hair for them to see.

It gets the desired giggle in response. "Didja deserve it?"

"I never do," I sigh. "All I did was make fun of her arms a little."

"Well, what did you expect? Sully's always been worried about the strength and size of her arm muscles. She knows it's one of the only things that a lot of guys will always have on her, no matter how crazy toned she gets her lower body. You touched a nerve," Lissa says, wagging a finger at me.

"The hell am I supposed to know something like that?" I protest.

Frederick chimes in, "Well, I daresay you won't forget after today, considering the reminder Sully apparently gave you."

"Frederick… was that a joke?" I can't hold back laughter. "God, today's just full of surprises I guess."

He scowls. "I'll have you know I can be plenty witty when the mood strikes me."

"I dunno Frederick," Lissa says, "I think Chrom might have been right when he said you only smile when you're about to bring down the axe."

"Well, considering the state of me now, I may have to learn to smile under other circumstances," he replies. I'm not sure if he meant it as a joke as well, but if so, it certainly didn't land. At least for me.

"Well with any luck, you'll have to learn regardless. Once we end this war and establish peace, you'll soon run out of people to axe," I say, trying to sound as earnest as I can.

"Would that such could be the case. A swift peace is certainly no less than milady Emmeryn deserves, after all," Frederick says. I could swear Emm looks up at him on hearing her name, but she might have been looking that way anyway. A man can hope, I guess.

I hang around for a while longer making small talk, but soon I look out the window as the sun starts thinking about calling it in for the day. I remember what I had promised Gregor and Gaius earlier today.

I turn to Lissa. Even though I'm not sure what the norms are for an eighteen-year-old drinking in this world, I figure I may as well ask. "Hey Lissa, a few of us are going to get some drinks and try to take the edge off. Do you want to come with us?"

She smiles at me, but her eyes betray how tired she must be. "Thanks Randy, but I think I might just need to sleep in a real bed for once. Once I'm sure Emm is all set up for the night I'll probably go straight to my own room for the night."

"Gotcha. Frederick, you want anything while I'm out?" I ask.

"No, I will be fine here, Randall. But thank you nonetheless," he replies as politely as ever. The man really is a champ to be taking this all in stride so fluidly.

"Alrighty, peace." I head for the door, stopping outside when I spot Lon'qu. Frankly I'd forgotten he was here.

Before I even open my mouth, Lon'qu says, "Can't. Still in hostile territory, so I'm not taking leave of the princess any more than is absolutely necessary."

I have to give my brain a second to catch up. "Sweet. Next time, then."

"Right. Next time."

* * *

When I get outside, I spot the man himself, Gregor, talking with Anna. They're standing pretty close together, so I decide to hang back for a sec rather than interrupt. I take a seat on the inn's front stoop for the moment.

However, something something curiosity and cats, so I still listen in while pretending to be really interested in some storefront sign far behind them.

"Sooo, you got a little extra coin to float me a couple drinks, Gregor? Word is you're planning to hit the bar later with Gaius and the others, and I could certainly use some liquid cheer after everything we went through back there. It'd be a privilege to get some drinks with you," Anna purrs, noticeably leaning toward him.

"Gregor have coin, yes, but is not enough to be buying drink for two tonight," he replies levelly, clearly unmoved by her flirtatious delivery.

She straightens up slightly, pouting. "Oh come on, I know for a fact that Chrom keeps you around for a not-so-modest price. You've totally got enough to spot your old pal for just a couple drinks, don'tcha?"

His eyes narrow. "And Gregor saw you make many good deal in town today after we arrive. You are also not light on coin. Why you insist Gregor should pay?"

"Because a very nice and, let's be honest here, very pretty young lady has caught your eye, perhaps?" she replies sweetly, trying to make a recovery.

"Gregor will not argue with pretty," he says. I put every ounce of my strength into not snorting aloud.

Anna frowns. "And why might you argue with me being nice?"

"Gregor suspect you come to him not because you enjoy time with Gregor, but because you like free things," he replies.

"Aw, Greg, it's not like I'm asking you to buy me a new wagon. It's just a few drinks!" Anna half-whines at him. "And besides, you're overthinking it. It's not like that."

He shakes his head. "Gregor know your type. Always very nice to Gregor while he have money, but when money is not so good, poof. Where is lady?"

She takes a step back. "What, you think I'm some kind of gold-digger?" she asks, aghast.

"Yes," he replies simply.

"If I were a gold-digger, don't you think I'd be going after someone like Chrom or Virion? The guys who are pretty obviously the richest in the Shepherds?" she counters.

"Maybe you think Gregor not very smart, so is easy to get money or free things. Maybe Gregor seem like, what is word… sucker?" he fires back with a knowing smile.

"Gregor, I'm shocked that you think of me that way! I thought we were friends!" she protests, but the expression on her face betrays her thoughts: she's more upset at not getting away with it than she is at being called out on sniffing after coin. Alarmingly, she turns to me. "Randall, you know me! We share a profession as healers! You don't think I'm a gold-digger, do you?"

My blood chills for a second. I did not anticipate getting dragged into this. Still, I gotta side with my buddy Gregor on this one. "Uhh… I agree that you're pretty?"

She groans. "You guys are the worst!"

Gregor says, "Is quite simple, Anna. If you want to prove you are not gold-digger, then you pay for own drinks." He grins. "And if you really want to be proving it, maybe you buy Gregor drink or two?"

"As if! You're not turning this around on me," Anna replies irritably, crossing her arms.

"But is it not, what was word, privilege to drink with Gregor? People often pay for privilege, yes?" Gregor says, the self-satisfaction of turning a phrase evident on his face.

"That was before I found out you're a big… cheap… jerk!" Anna stammers, then storms off, grumbling.

"Ayye," Gregor sighs, turning to me when she's out of sight. "You know sad thing? Gregor planned to ask if Anna want him to pay for drink before she say anything. She is very pretty, and can go drink for drink with Gregor. Very impressive. But Gregor know when someone taking advantage of him. No good to let that happen."

Huh. That's very interesting. He was willing to offer what she wanted, but the fact that she thought she could take it from him made him change his mind. "That makes sense, I guess. But if that's the case, did you have to lay the roast on her so hard? Won't that just piss her off so much that she might not come even if you do pay?"

Gregor laughs a short, booming chuckle. "Is no way she take it personally. I will say sorry with a big mead later."

I laugh too. Can't fault a guy for confidence, I guess. "Gregor, you are one of a kind."

He looks at the sun, already half-smothered by the horizon. "Is growing dark. You go to tavern with Gregor, yes?"

I shake my head. "I'll meet you there in a bit. But there's someone I want to ask along."

"Hah! Gregor may only be recent addition to team, but rumors fly fast. Gregor think he know who you speak of. Good luck, Randall. Gregor suspect you might need it," he replies with a smile.

"Yeah, I might. We'll see. Catch up with you later," I say with a wave farewell.

* * *

I enter the medical wagon, and sure enough, there's Maribelle, sitting on a crate organizing and cataloging the staves and vulneraries.

"I thought I'd find you here," I say, making her jump a bit.

"Randy! You startled me!" she says, clearly tempted to swat my shoulder but deciding not to. "What do you mean, you thought I'd be here? What made you so sure?"

"Well, I wouldn't say I was sure. But when the shit hits the fan, you go out of your way to feel useful. And with what's happened since Golgotha, I figured you'd be doing your best to look after Lissa, maybe pick up a couple of her duties while she's occupied with Emmeryn. So I checked the list of duties to see what would have normally been her job today. I had a few places in mind, actually, but this was first on my mind," I reply with a shrug. "You're too reliable for your own good."

She frowns. "Am I so predictable, then?"

I sit on the crate next to her. "Maybe not. Maybe I just know you pretty well."

She studies her list rather than looking at me. "Maybe. What brings you my way in the first place? You make it sound like you were actively looking for me."

I grin. "I'm here to drag you off to the bar to get sloshed with us. God knows you could do with some lightening up, after all."

"Oh I could, could I? You do know how to charm a lady, Randy," she replies curtly.

"Don't I? Come with me, it'll do your soul some good."

"Can't you see I'm in the middle of organizing our medical supplies?" She gestures to the already quite well ordered crates. "There's no time for something like that, even if I wanted to."

"Psh, that sounds like a job to do when we're back on the road and there's nothing else to do. We haven't had a lot of peaceful nights in town in a long while. Why not take advantage of the chance to unwind?"

"Because there… I… Maybe I just don't want to!" she says, setting aside her list to focus on me.

"How come?"

"It's… it's undignified, getting inebriated in public!" She makes use of her newly freed arms by crossing them defiantly.

"You got me there. But it's also _fun_. And besides, we're going with friends. No one's gonna judge you or anything, even if you do get too far along. And knowing you, you won't even do that," I counter.

"That's not… that's not what this is about! I'm not worried that I'll get too drunk; I've got more self-control than that," she replies.

"Well, don't you want to hang with everyone for a bit anyway?" I offer.

"What makes you think they want to be around me anyway?" she asks loudly. "I know what they say about me. That I'm too much of a killjoy to have a good time around. That I stress out others just by being in the room with them. That I must have skipped childhood and moved straight into the overbearing mother stage. They wonder how Lissa can stand being friends with me, when she's so lighthearted and free-spirited and I'm so… not. They wonder how someone like you… Anyway, I'm sure they'd all be much happier if I just didn't attend."

It looks like I accidentally touched a sore nerve. Maybe more than one, actually. But I remember what Chrom said the other day, that she felt as if everyone had taken my side and left her behind. It's no surprise she might still be thinking about these things, especially now that we're back here.

"Maribelle, I can't speak for everyone else. I don't care what 'they' say. I know for a fact that you know how to have fun when you want to. You sang and danced with everyone else that night, all those weeks ago, remember?"

"Only because you made me," she sighs. "It was your idea from the beginning."

"So? You still did it, and still had fun, right?"

"Randy, you can't just _do_ this!" Maribelle snaps at me, turning to glare at me. "It's not fair."

"What are you talking about?"

"You can't just pretend like we can go right back to how things were, back when we were together. You bring up an example of me having fun from that time all of a sudden, but that doesn't prove that I'm an easy person to get along with! It only proves that you're extraverted enough for two people! But it's not like that anymore, because we aren't together anymore, and it's dishonest to act like that doesn't play a role. And now you'll tell me that all you wanted to do was go out as friends, to try and start fresh with no pressure. Am I right?"

"That was what I was going for, yeah." I cross my arms, irritated that she seems to be doubting my motive.

"But it's not that easy. If I were to try and go out with you to spend an evening together, we'd both pretend like it was strictly platonic, and it wouldn't be. You still harbor feelings for me, and I do for you, but they're not the same, and all that isn't just going away because at least one of us plans to get drunk tonight. You were right when you said that all this has to wait until we've brought an end to the war. It wouldn't be fair to either of us to allow ourselves to get put in such a potentially complicated situation, and you know it."

"What's complicated about getting some drinks with some friends?" I ask.

"Oh, don't try and pretend like you don't know what I mean. Now you're just being willfully ignorant," she replies with a huff.

I stand up in frustration. Maybe I thought the tension would slough off into the floor or something. "See, this is exactly what I was talking about before! When we're in battle, or when one of us is having a major freakout, we're there for each other, no problem. But when we should just be able to stop and take a breath, _that's_ when we don't get along! What's up with that?"

"Randy, I… I wish I knew. This isn't a comfortable dynamic for me, either. But can you please just give me more time to work things out in my head? I'm sorry I don't have any real explanations for you, but I don't have them for myself either. At least, not in a way that I know how to express. You understand what I mean, don't you?" She stands too so she can look me squarely in the eye.

After a moment, I realize I have no choice but to relent. Even if she were to come with me, the argument we just had would be hanging over us the whole time. I screwed the pooch from the moment I decided to challenge her on this. "Honestly, I don't think I understand much. But of course I'm not going to make you do anything. Just… if you change your mind, you're always welcome to join us, alright?"

I'm rewarded with a small, sincere smile. "Much obliged, I'm sure. Don't have too much fun. I don't want to have to waste any vulneraries on hangover management tomorrow."

I wink. "Challenge accepted."

"No, that wasn't a–"

But it was too late. I was already gone.

* * *

My first empty glass hits the table with a hearty _clink_.

Gregor and Stahl cheer, the former giving my back a congratulatory smack that just about unseats me.

"And here Gregor was worried Randall would have hard time catching up!" Gregor laughs.

When the burn in my throat subsides after a couple seconds, I say, "Hey, speaking of catching up. Where are the others? I thought Gaius was coming too. Didn't he say he was gonna bring some folks?" So far the only ones at our table are myself, Gregor, Stahl, Panne, and a still-kinda-sullen Anna.

"Maybe he got held up somewhere," Stahl says. "He mentioned at least one 'tough customer.' And speaking of, I thought you were going to bring Maribelle with you, Randall."

"I sure was," I reply irritably. "Let's not get into it."

He raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of his mead. "Alright then."

"Stahl. Your blood vessels are already dilating. Mind your intake rate," Panne says. "I do not want to have a repeat of last time."

Stahl blanches.

"Wait, what? I thought you said… What happened last time?" I ask.

Despite Stahl's panicked efforts to get her to shut up, Panne turns to me and says, "Last time we drank at this bar, after you and Gregor left Stahl and me alone here, Stahl started to say something, but vomited before he could finish. It got in my fur, and it was revolting." She looks at Stahl. "I do _not_ want another incident like that."

"That's not the story you told me!" I look at Stahl with an accusing grin.

"What story did you tell?" Panne asks.

He fidgets for a moment. "I, uh, may have left out the vomiting part. To tell the truth, I was a little fuzzy, so I forgot that part."

"Well, I wish I could," Panne replies.

He hangs his head in shame while Gregor and I cackle away. Even Anna has to admit it's funny enough to warrant a laugh.

"Anyway, that won't be a problem. I'm the master of pacing tonight," Stahl assures Panne.

The door flies open. "Hey there, ladies and gents! Room for a few more?" Gaius calls, sauntering in like he owns the place. Following him are Sumia, Vaike, Sully, Miriel, presumably Kellam, Chrom, and surprisingly, an irritated-looking Robin. "Hope you all didn't get too far along without us!"

Getting everyone seated at one table proves to be a challenge. Even with Sumia and Robin sharing a stool and Kellam willingly standing behind Miriel's seat, everyone's pretty much shoulder to shoulder. For my part, I'm jammed against Gregor's shoulder and doing my best not to push Sumia off her half of the stool.

Robin looks like she's in a sour mood, no doubt at least partly because she's currently half-cheeking it on the stool. In an effort to see what's up, I say, "Hey, what all did you get up to today, Robin? Get much done?"

She flashes me a look. "Technically, yes. However, the resupplying I got done today could have been done in an hour or two, and we could be a lot farther along. I don't think we can afford to spend an entire night here after we lost so much time during the afternoon. I'm sure we have pursuers on us even as we speak, and I don't want us caught in the night with our pants down."

"But Robin," Sumia between us replies, "didn't we beat the Plegians pretty bad? Maybe they'll be focusing on regrouping too!"

"That's true, and if every Plegian soldier in their military were in Golgotha, then that would be enough to allow us to relax. But don't forget, they have military installations everywhere in the country. All that has to happen is one messenger flying at full speed getting to a choke point before we do, and suddenly we could find our retreat very rudely interrupted," Robin explains.

"O-oh," Sumia mutters, embarrassedly sipping her mead. So it looks like Robin is determined to hold onto her uptight mood even after the decision to stay has been made, then.

Still, among pretty much everyone else, it seems people are appreciating the change of pace. After everyone's got a drink or two in them and the mood starts loosening a bit, Miriel looks behind her and nods at Kellam. She stands and taps her glass with something to get everyone's attention.

"Everyone, Kellam and I have an announcement for you. It is our wish to communicate our intention of lifelong nuptial conjoinance." She gets a few blank looks.

"We're getting married!" Kellam clarifies, raising his hands above his head in a victorious gesture. For once, he's impossible to miss.

The reaction is immediate. Squeals of joy from a few of our women (and also me, but shush. I've said all along they're OTP), roars of congratulations from the rest of us, and a great deal of hugging and back-slapping. When the initial wave of joy calms down, people start sitting down again.

"How long have you been planning this?" Stahl asks, his face red with alcohol and with overjoy for his old friend.

"Depends what you mean by 'you,' I guess. I asked her only a few days ago," Kellam says, glancing at me briefly. Oh. Oh! I feel myself reddening too. So that's what that was the other day. "But as for how long I've been planning it, I'd have to say I've been considering it since we left Ylisstol, honestly."

Stahl looks at me, and I know we're thinking the same thing. We nod in mutual recognition of the fact that it probably started that night we talked with Kellam about it, all those months ago. A self-congratulatory smile is shared.

Meanwhile, Sumia has crossed the table (Robin looks slightly relieved to have a whole seat to herself now) and is inspecting the engagement ring on Miriel's hand. "Kellam, where did you get this? It's huge! How did you pay for it on a Shepherd's salary?" she asks.

"I got it in Ný Von, actually. A certain merchant in our company helped me cut a series of deals," he replies, smiling gratefully at Anna. She smiles back, and unlike her usual sly smirk, it's a genuine one.

"Don't forget, though, that I've got you on retainer for a favor next time I need to scope the competition out unseen," she says, and the smirk is back in its rightful place. Still, it seems she isn't the callous übercapitalist I had her pegged for. Or maybe it's more accurate to say that she finances noble causes, and that alone is worth recognition.

With good news like this being dropped on us, the mood among the Shepherds can't help but lighten up a good deal. Even Robin looks like she's starting to relax a bit. Although, I do notice something.

"Robin, do you have anything to drink?" I ask, gesturing to the empty space on the table in front of her.

"No, I don't. I've heard what alcohol can do to people, and I'd prefer to stay as sharp as possible while we're still in Plegia, thank you very much," she replies crossly.

"Bah, come on, give it a go. Have you had any before?" I ask.

She shifts around a bit. "I, uh, I don't really know. Not since I joined the Shepherds, anyway."

"So, maybe you'd like it?" I offer.

"But the Plegians—"

"Are not going to attack us tonight, Robin. We've been booking it like crazy ever since we got clear of the capital, and if someone's waiting for us somewhere, they aren't coming out to the middle of the goddamn desert to get us. They'd rather fight us where they'll have a geographical advantage, like a fortress or fortified city. And if beating air messengers is your goal, I think it might a losing battle. Even at our fastest, we can't come close to the speed of one guy on a wyvern. Instead of running the troops ragged to save a little bit of time, don't you think it might be more sensible to focus on physical and mental recovery so that if we run into a threat on the way out of the country, we can be sure we'll be ready for it?"

She takes a moment to consider what I suggested. "Alright, fine. I guess you might have a point."

"And to that end, I think our fair tactician needs a drink," I conclude.

She sighs. "Yes, okay, I'll give it a _try_. Nothing more."

Beside me, Gregor gives a shout of approval, apparently having heard the whole thing. He slides a half-full mug of beer down the table toward Robin. "Give that a try, Robin. Is very good, not very strong drink. You like, Gregor is sure."

She tentatively takes the mug and raises it to her lips. She takes a sip and almost instantly grimaces. "Ugh, what is this? It's like… gross bitter bread water!"

Looking slightly hurt, Gregor takes his mug back. "Is called beer. And is _not_ gross."

"Well, you tried it, anyway. Worth a shot," I say with a shrug and a snicker. I kinda figured this is what would happen, but I got a good laugh out of that expression on her face.

"Well, what're you having over there, Randall?" Robin asks, still holding her mouth funny due to the aftertaste I guess.

"Trust me, if you didn't like beer, you won't like this either," I reply, taking a slightly smug sip from my whiskey.

"Well it'd be better than having this taste left in my mouth. Can I try it?" she asks, and then does something I never thought I'd see: she tries her hand at puppy-dog eyes.

Surprisingly effective.

I hand the glass over. "Don't say I didn't warn you. I think we should just get you a mead. It's fermented from honey, so it's naturally less bitter than beer."

She ignores me and takes a modest sip. The moment it's down her throat, she takes a deep breath through her mouth, putting a hand to her chest as the burning drink makes its way to her stomach. After a few seconds, she turns to me and Gregor.

"That was so weird! I like it!" she exclaims with a grin.

While Gregor cheers behind me, I sigh, "This only ends well, I'm sure."

"I'm gonna go get one for myself, I think," she says, standing to go to the bar.

* * *

 _I can't believe after everything I said, I'm still even considering joining them. This flies in the face of everything I told him doesn't it? No matter how casual we try to make things, we can never really be as carefree as we once were._

 _He can never be as carefree as he was when I met him. This war has done a lot of terrible things to people I care about, but with the exception of Ricken and perhaps Donnel, no one has changed as fundamentally as Randy since the fighting began. When I first met him, he was almost childlike in his nonchalance. Even now he feigns that same spirit, but the look in his eye has changed. He's learned to blame himself for everything that goes wrong for our cause, and no matter how much we try, we can't seem to get him to unlearn that._

…

 _Gods, maybe I do need a drink after all. Even I know when enough is enough, and this continual stress is absolutely enough._

 _As I approach the tavern, though, I see that I'll have one more fire to put out before I join anyone. Ricken and Nowi are taking turns peering into the establishment through one of the front windows, speaking in low tones to each other._

" _Ricken, Nowi, what on earth are you two doing there?" I ask with a practiced air of exasperation._

 _Ricken jumps in surprise and turns to face me. "O-oh, hi there Maribelle. I was just… out for an evening stroll with Nowi. You know, taking in the sights of the town and all."_

" _It looks to me like you two aren't exactly strolling anywhere," I say in a tone that I'd like to think demands nothing less than the truth._

 _It certainly seems to earn the truth, regardless. "Look, I know that I'm still… pretty young. But I'm tired of being shut out of things just because of that! I'm plenty smart, and plenty strong, but I still get told that I'm too young to join the rest of the group."_

" _Ricken, with something like drinking, it's not a matter of how smart you are. Alcohol makes everyone stupid. No amount of brains will fix that. As for strength, even the greatest mountain of a man eventually succumbs to the stuff. No, whoever told you that it isn't the place for you was quite right, I'm afraid," I say, doing my best not to condescend, since I know he hates that._

" _Well then if being smart or strong isn't what matters, then what does?" he demands._

 _I sigh. "Maturity. A greater amount of maturity than frankly any boy, ahem, man your age has."_

 _He throws up his hands in exasperation. "Ugh! I'm more mature than half the people in there!"_

" _Just trust me on this, Ricken. There are some parts of growing up that you don't need to rush into," I say._

 _He searches my face for a sign of weakness, hoping I'll relent. I give no such satisfaction._

" _Rrgh, fine. I'm going to bed. Night," he grumbles, storming off to the inn._

" _Night Ricken!" Nowi calls after him. Then she turns to me. "I think he just doesn't like that he has to do all the boring grown-up stuff, like fighting and setting up camp and stuff, but he's not allowed to do the fun stuff."_

 _I can't help but chuckle. "I think every teenager feels like that at some point. Although, you're certainly no teenager yourself. Why don't you join the rest of them?"_

 _She sticks out her tongue with a disgusted expression. "I tried some of Gregor's drink once, and it was crazy yucky. I don't get why anyone likes that stuff."_

" _Well, for many, it's hardly about the taste. But you also couldn't convince me to partake of whatever Gregor keeps in that flask of his, so you still have a point."_

" _Plus, if I bailed on Ricken too, he'd feel super bad! I mean, there's Donny, and Donny's a real sweetie, but he also goes to bed real early most of the time. I think it's cuz he lived on a farm for so long, so he's used to going to bed and waking up super early," Nowi explains._

" _Well, that's very kind of you, Nowi," I say with a smile._

" _Thanks, Maribelle!" she replies with a grin. "But speaking of sleep, I think I'm gonna go to bed too. I was really only staying up to keep Ricken company. I'll see you in the morning, okay?"_

" _Alright. Good night, Nowi."_

" _Night!" she shouts as she flutters off toward the inn._

 _And now I'm alone with my thoughts again. Should I go in after all? I decide to take a look through the window to see what had Ricken so captivated._

 _Inside, the most eye-catching sight is Vaike and Sully standing with a group circled around them, each of them racing to empty their mugs as quickly as possible. There's Gaius, Chrom, Sumia, Stahl, Panne, Gregor, Anna, Miriel, and I think I see Kellam as well, all watching the spectacle. Frankly, I'm surprised I don't see Randy there as well. Yelling at drinking contests seems like it would be an appealing prospect to him._

 _In fact, where is he? I look around a little more. Perhaps he went to–_

 _Oh. Well, that explains that. I can't say I'm surprised. He and Robin sit together at an otherwise empty table, each with a glass of whiskey in hand. They're laughing about something. A pang in my chest._

 _I look away from the window. Stop being so pathetic, Maribelle. This is the fate you chose. He's allowed to talk with whomever he likes, and you have no business holding that against him. Especially seeing as he tried to invite you yourself to join him just a little while ago. Given his way, it would have been you sitting with him at the table. It was you that prevented that._

 _Would he still sit with me if I went in now?_

 _I know what would happen. He would smile and wave me over, and I'd sit at his left, and he'd do his best to include me in the conversation they already have going. It would be decidedly nice, and I would feel incredibly awkward. I would feel like I was intruding, and I would be. Even if neither of them saw it that way, I still would._

 _Perhaps I could join the larger group. I think that drinking contests are undignified and borderline barbaric, but I could pretend to enjoy it just to be part of the group. It would hardly be ideal, but I would be in the building. He would at least know I decided to come. That I want to start over too. He would stand up and walk over, say something like "I knew you would come all along," and then we would stand and talk, leaving Robin alone at the table. She would probably know what I was doing, and I wouldn't be surprised if she felt bitter over it. I would deserve that too._

 _Gods, why am I such an overthinker? Can't I just enjoy one evening with my friends and allies for once? Why won't my own mind leave me alone? I'm so tired of this! I build up walls, then get upset because I'm alone inside them. It's pathetic. I'm pathetic._

 _I should just go to bed._

 _I walk back to the inn. Inside the lobby room, I spot, of all people Virion. He's talking with someone I don't recognize over in the corner._

" _Oh, Virion. What are you doing here? I'm surprised you didn't join the others at the tavern," I say, prompting him to look over at me. He smiles genially._

" _Ah, Lady Maribelle. A pleasure as always to see you," he says with an irritatingly theatrical air. "While of course I love a good wine as much as the next noble fellow, I must confess to finding the larger bulk of intoxicating drink to be a bit… base. So, I elected not to join our companions this evening. Surely a lady such as you understands."_

" _Of course. And who is this, may I ask?" I gesture to the man he was speaking to. The man in question wears all dark clothes, including a wide hood that, while lowered at the moment, would surely conceal one's identity very well in the night. In short: he looks suspicious._

" _Ah, this is one of my contacts. I'm most fortunate that he was able to rendezvous with me here in this obscure village, for I have essential status updates to send to my steward back in my homeland," Virion explains._

" _Fortunate indeed. Where are you from, by the way? In all the time you've been with us, I don't believe I've ever heard you mention it."_

 _He waves a hand. "Oh, that's no matter of concern. Need-to-know basis and such, yes?"_

" _Naturally. My apologies for prying," I say dryly._

" _Oh, not at all. As always, your impeccable tact is much appreciated. Now," he turns back to his shadowy associate, "you should be off. Thank you." The man nods, pulling up his hood and walking past me and out the door in silence._

 _Virion turns his attention back to me. "Now, is there anything I can do for you? You looked a touch distressed when you came through the door, if I may be as impertinent as to point it out."_

 _I shake my head. "Your concern is appreciated, but I am just fine. More than a bit tired, perhaps, which does little for my expression. I had intended to head straight to bed, in fact."_

 _He nods slightly. "In that case, please don't let me keep you, milady. Profuse apologies for keeping you as long as I have."_

" _It's no trouble," I say as I start to walk toward the stairs. "Good night, Virion."_

" _Good night, Lady Maribelle."_

 _I keep an eye on him for as long as I can before slowly rounding the corner and heading upstairs._

* * *

"Okay, so here's what I think," Robin says, not quite looking at me.

"Tell me this thing," I reply, absently watching Vaike doing his best to impress Sully with his dance moves. Based on the look on her face, I'd say it isn't working too well.

"I think the Plegians are gonna be waiting for us somewhere before we get out of the country. We're gonna have to fight our way out, for sure." Robin nods her head self-assuredly, then nods again in case I didn't see the first one.

I mirror her nod. "Yeah, that makes sense. Where do you think we'll get attacked?"

"It's gonna hafta be someplace they think they can trap us. Someplace that'll limit the ways we can get away."

"That's what I'd do," I concede. "But maybe they won't attack us."

"What? Why?" She cocks her head.

"Cuz they heard Emm's speech, right? I think she made it so everyone in the country magically heard it or something. I still think a lot of Plegians will give up the fight. Like this town, right?"

"Psh, maybe. But I don't wanna count on that. I don't ever wanna take anything for granted again. We gotta be ready to fight, all the time. I even brought this." She reaches into the inside of her coat and pulls out an Elthunder tome.

"Whoa, whoa, not when you've had so much," I slur urgently, trying to push the tome back into her coat.

"It's fiiiine, you know I can handle my magic just fine," she says with an irritated look as she reluctantly stows the tome back out of sight.

"It's not the magic I'm worried about you handling," I say.

A voice from my left interrupts us. "You know what's a load of bull?" Gaius asks me very loudly.

"No, I don't. But I think you're gonna tell me either way."

"Like, how come bees just know how to _make_ their own sugar? Like they just go into their hives, and do their little bee magic, and then BAM. Honey. Why can't I do that?" Gaius moans, seeming truly distressed at the thought.

"You know that's not how that works, right?" I ask.

"Well hello, Mister Superbrain. Why don't you enlighten me, then?" he responds with a frown.

"You ever notice how bees are always going from plant to plant, landing and doing stuff, and then they go back to the hive?"

"Yeah, that's how you find the hives. Duh."

"They're not just flying out of the hive for fun. Some of the bees gotta find this stuff called nectar. I think it's usually in flowers and stuff like that. So they bring it back, and then some of the bees like, spit on it or something? Anyway, they do some shit to the nectar, and they convert it to honey that way."

"You expect me to believe that delicious, golden honey is really just flower guts and bug spit?" Gaius asks, looking quite offended.

"I don't care what you believe. It's the truth," I say, turning back to my own drink.

"But… that's gross!" he exclaims, the distress evident on his face.

"Try not to think about it," I reply.

"Man, I think you're messing with me! I don't eat bee spit and flowers!" Gaius shouts, standing up and skulking off before I have a chance to reply.

Robin giggles next to me. "Is that really true?"

"Yup. Every word." I take a self-satisfied sip.

"He's right, then. Thass pretty gross."

"Eh, the world is gross. You know there's more little microorganisms living in your gut than there are cells of actual person in your body? The space your body takes up is mostly not even you, if you go by cells that are you versus cells that aren't."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Even in this state, I realize I do not want to drop the bomb of what germs are to someone who's never heard of it before. "Nothing, just forget it."

She raises a brow, but shrugs nonetheless. "Anyway, what were we talking about before?"

"Not taking your tome out in a bar?"

She shakes her head. "Nah, before that. I feel like it was pretty important."

"How important can it be if you don't even remember it?" I scoff.

She grumbles to herself for a few moments, trying to dredge it back up. "Randall, we were _jus'_ talking about it. Ugh, my head's all fuzzy."

I laugh. "Yeah, that happens. Mind your pacing, by the way. You've had quite a few there, and in a not very long time."

"I'm fine," she says, visibly trying to appear sober. "I think."

"The point stands. How did Gaius get you to come out, anyway? You were pretty opposed to even being here in town, let alone coming to drink with us."

She takes a deep breath through her nose. "No real reason. Er, no, there was a reason, but it's no big deal. At first I was gonna try and convince as many people as I could not to drink cuz we gotta get moving again tomorrow. But I figured that wasn't gonna work when I saw everyone having all this fun. So I decided to hang around and make sure everyone was okay. You know, make sure no one gets _too_ too drunk or whatever."

"And how's that going?" I ask, glancing over at the borderline-scarlet faced Stahl, who's laughing helplessly at something Panne said. Panne raises an eyebrow, suggesting it really wasn't that funny, whatever it was.

"Well, I think I kinda forgot about that too," Robin admits. "I didn't know. I don't really know anything, you know? I mean like, I know fights. I know battles. Magic and stuff too. And I know you guys. But I don't really _know_ anything, you get it?"

My woolen brain has to let that filter through for a second. "Kinda? You mean like how you lost your memory and all?"

"Yeah. Mostly that, I think. But like, even with other people. You got that morale was important, so you made sure we stopped today. But I didn't get that. I don't get… people. I know the Shepherds, and I keep all my charts and stuff, but sometimes… I dunno." She gazes down at her glass.

"Sometimes what?"

"Sometimes I feel like I still don't know anybody. Or maybe like nobody knows me. I don't know if there's a difference."

"Why don't you feel like you know anyone?" I ask. "Do you feel like you don't know me?"

She snorts. "I don't think anyone knows you, Randall. The only person more guarded about their past is Virion, and I'm pretty sure he's like a foreign serial killer or something."

I want to protest, but when she puts it like that I laugh instead. "I guess that's fair."

"Which part? The part about you or Virion?" She smirks at her own question.

"At least one of them," I reply. She sticks out her tongue at me. "So what are you going to do about that? Not knowing anyone, I mean."

"I dunno," she says thoughtfully. "Maybe it's just not the time. Maybe I don't get to have that just yet. I gotta lead the Shepherds, and that's more than a full time job sometimes. Maybe taking even this night off is something I didn't deserve."

"That bit about morale wasn't just for me and these chuckleheads, you know. It was for you, too," I reply.

"Well, thanks for thinking of me then, I suppose," she says, holding up her glass for me to clink mine against. We both finish our drinks, and she winces a bit as she swallows. I recall that she's still new to this.

"I think I wanna go to bed," she moans. "Even though that stuff is _good_ , I don't wanna be dead tomorrow."

"Alright, that's probably a good call. I'll go with you, then. Make sure you're good to walk back and all." I realize that for all the drinking she's been doing, she's never had to stumble farther than to the bar and back.

"Okay, but don't get any funny ideas," she warns with an attempt at a scary look.

"No idea what you're talking about," I say, standing to accompany her to the door.

Bless her, she does her best. More than once she stumbles, having to lean on me for support. Fortunately, her room at the inn is situated on the coveted first floor, so once we get inside, there are no stairs to conquer. We manage to get to her door without a major spill.

"Thanks, Randy," she slurs, attempting to pat my face gratefully but pretty much smacking it. "I'll see you in the morning." She remembers to yank off her boots before flopping onto the bed, but otherwise is pretty much down for the count instantly.

"Sleep tight," I say, shutting the door.

I consider heading back to the bar myself, but I guess once Robin and I left, the others started drifting out as well, because before I make it back to the door, I see Miriel floating into the room, bridal-style, which I assume means Kellam's got her. She's red in the face and, I can barely believe it, giggling. It's a strange, but not unpleasant sound. Her hat clings to her head for dear life.

She turns her head and sees me. "Oh, Randall. I trust the evening's festivities were enjoyable to you as well?"

I smile. "Hell yeah! I'm happy for you guys. Congratulations."

"Thanks. I owe you and Stahl big time, for helping me sort out my mind and my heart," Kellam says. He sounds comparatively sober.

I wave a hand dismissively. "Psh, you guys handled the hard part. At best, we gave you a nudge."

"Well, I for one am grateful that you did," Miriel says. "It is hardly a secret that I am not the best at conveying my feelings either, so it was fortuitous that Kellam made the first move."

"Anyway, like I said, thanks, Randall. I think we're about ready to call it a night," Kellam says with a genuine smile. He carries her upstairs like she doesn't weigh anything at all.

I figure that's my cue to wrap it up as well. Better to quit while it's still a pleasant fuzzy buzz, rather than pushing it and regretting it tomorrow. I climb the stairs and make my way over to my room.

When I open the door, though, I realize I'm not going to bed yet.

"Oh, hey Luci. What are you doing here?" I ask as I shut the door behind me. She's standing next to the window, hair tied up like when we first met despite the lack of her now-broken mask.

In a panic, she holds up a finger. "Shh! You mustn't be so loud!" she hisses.

"Right, you're right," I say in what I think is a quieter voice.

"Have you been drinking?" she asks.

"Celebrating Kellam and Miriel's engagement," I say, nodding my head.

"It makes sense that that would be happening about now," she muses, more to herself than me. "In any case, I wanted to meet with you to get your advice."

I take a seat on the side of my bed. "What about?"

"What to do from here. We've now departed quite severely from the timeline that I was always familiar with. In my time, Ylisstol was never taken, which puts us at a disadvantage, but Exalt Emmeryn was also not saved from death. She was never even kidnapped. Her death, by all accounts, hardened my father into the leader he had to become to repel the invasion of Ylisse. I don't know how different my father will be in this time, if at all. I don't know what ramifications will come from any of the things that have changed since I came back in time," she explains. After a moment, with some evident difficulty, she goes on, "I saw what happened to Sir Frederick's legs. To the Exalt's mind as well. These changes are significant. It seems that not every change we've made has been positive. I'm no longer as sure as I was before that my intervention has really helped anyone."

Good God am I too drunk to have this conversation properly. I take a deep breath to focus myself.

"Look, Luci. I don't know what's going to happen either, honestly. I know what Future Randy told you, that I would know the 'script' and all, but we've already fucked the script nine ways from Saturday."

"What do you mean?" she asks.

"According to the script, as I knew it, Emmeryn was supposed to die back at Golgotha. Aventine was supposed to be definitely dead instead of missing. Mustafa was supposed to die. Who knows how many other things have been knocked out of place? As I know the script, the next thing to happen is that Emmeryn's speech is supposed to demoralize the Plegian army and make most of them turn on Gangrel. Leave him weakened and mostly alone. The war should actually be over soon, in our favor. But the more I think about it…"

"The more ridiculous that seems," Lucina finishes. "Why would the Plegians abandon all the progress they've made in the wake of a speech made by their captured enemy?"

"That's what I thought, too. I don't know. Maybe it'll really happen that way. Might depend on whether they learn she didn't really die. If they think she died for her cause, that has legitimacy. Or it might depend on folks like Mustafa pushing for peace. Anything could happen, I guess. But to answer your question, I have no idea what you should do. Honestly, for this part of the 'script,' you're actually conspicuously absent. No one knows where you are or what you're up to. Maybe you're just staying out of sight and biding time."

She looks frustrated at my inability to provide a helpful answer. "And where is this script, anyway? What did he mean by that, and why do you know what that means?"

I let out a short laugh, eyes drifting to the floorboards. "Trust me, you don't wanna know."

She steps closer to the bed. "I think I do, actually."

I look up at her. "No, you really don't. Luci, there's things that people aren't supposed to know. Not like secrets, more like truths. Eldritch truths, if you like to make it dramatic. Things that would fuck your head to know."

"But I suppose your head is just fine knowing them?" she asks.

"Yup," I say simply.

"Do you think so little of me? That I can't handle the truth?" She is clearly offended. She sits roughly on the chair near the bed.

"Not just you. Nobody has any business knowing why I know what I know."

"What makes you so different, then? Why can you handle it?" she asks.

"I don't know if I can," I answer honestly.

She's quiet for a long moment. "Who are you, Randall?"

As much as it sucks not being able to trust anyone with the full truth about myself, as I look at Lucina's face now, I realize why it needs to be so. The truth is a tool, and it can be made a weapon. And the truth about me — the whole truth — isn't just a weapon, it's a bomb. And if I ever dropped it, it's sure to explode. So I have to hold it, close to the chest.

"I'm some guy who woke up in a bar one day, Lucina. I don't have anything else for you. And I don't know what you should do."

She looks disappointed, but not surprised. "I see. I'm sorry, it's not my place to pry. I just don't feel as secure about what we're doing here as I thought I would."

"None of us do. Me perhaps most of all," I say, rubbing my eyes. "I'm sorry that Future Randy made you believe you could count on me to know everything like he seemed to. It turns out I'm more of a variable than he accounted for. I'm just trying to keep people safe, that's all. So far my interventions haven't killed anyone that wasn't 'supposed' to die, and a few people that are alive now shouldn't have been. A lot of that is also thanks to you. As scary as it is to not know what will happen next, I think we can say that so far we've done good."

"I will admit, it's a little surprising to hear you talk that way. Uncle Randy– oh!" she catches herself, "I mean, Future Randall, he always sounded so sure of what was going to happen. It seemed like he always knew what to do. Right up until the end, he kept all of us safe, against impossible odds. He'd lead us down escape paths from danger that we all thought were nothing short of a miracle to find. He'd pinpoint weak points in enemy formations that we could perfectly exploit to win decisive battles. It's hard to imagine he was ever just as unsure of the future as I am."

I guess in a world where you're living day by day in the post-apocalypse, being able to repeat any one day at a time would make you seem pretty omniscient. This power really is better cut out for a world in chaos than it is for a protracted single conflict like this.

"Well, here's hoping I can fill his shoes someday," I say. "Oh, by the way, did I hear you right? Did you used to call me Uncle Randy, back in the future?" I smirk at her embarrassed shifting around.

"It wasn't just me. Almost all of us did. As I recall, It was Cynthia who started it. 'Look how Uncle Randy did my hair!' she said one morning, and the name stuck for most of us from that day on." She smiles wistfully at the memory. "She always had you tie up her ponytails every morning, even after Severa said she was too old for that and started doing it herself. Oh! I'm sorry, you might not know about them. You said your knowledge was a little spotty in that regard."

I laugh, then stifle a yawn. "Trust me, I know those names at least. And that does sound like them, for sure."

"You're tired. I should go," Lucina says gently. She stands up and starts heading for the window.

"Lucina. Are you alright?" I ask. "I wasn't able to give you any of the answers you wanted."

She pauses, then turns and gives me a small, cautious smile. "I think I'm okay. I think maybe it helps to hear what someone else thinks, even if they aren't any more sure of this than I am. Knowing that I'm not alone is itself a relief. I'm glad we talked."

"I am too," I say, returning her smile with a drunken, lopsided grin.

"But now, I really will go. Sleep well, Randall," she replies, walking toward the window again.

"Alright, but you gotta let me see you do the thing," I say, starting to stand on unsteady legs myself. I will not be denied this time!

She holds up a hand to stop me. "If you can have your secrets, I can have mine. Fair's fair, Randall," she says, and then is gone in a single leap.

Resigned to my sound defeat, I flop back onto the bed and wonder how many degrees of separation there are between me and the guy who would go on to tie Cynthia's hair up every morning.

* * *

 _I knock on the door as gently as I can, so as not to wake anyone else up. From inside, I hear a fumbling_ thump _and a blade being drawn, followed by Frederick's voice, demanding, "Who goes there?"_

 _I roll my eyes. So much for subtlety. "Frederick, it's me." I open the door and see that he has already dragged himself against Emm's bed to prepare to defend her, sword in hand. On seeing me, though, he relaxes and sheathes the blade._

" _Oh, milord! Forgive me, I was simply acting to defend milady in case it were a hostile intruder," he explains as he climbs back into his bed with surprising efficiency._

" _Trust me, Frederick, nothing makes me happier than the knowledge that you've got your eye on her so diligently," I say as I cross the room to join him. I hold out one of the mugs of mead in my hand to him. "But even so, I was hoping you'd join me for a drink."_

" _I see. If that's what you wish, milord," he says, dutifully taking the mug and taking a dignified sip._

" _I feel like I've seen so little of you lately," I say. "I know that's my fault, for not coming to visit you nearly as often as I should. But I'm trying to do better, so… here I am."_

" _That you would take time from your hectic life to pay me a visit is already a blessing, milord. There is no need for you to concern yourself with me," Frederick says._

 _We sit in silence for a few moments, taking occasional sips from our mugs. There's so much I want so say, but I don't know how to go about any of it. The guilt I feel for him being in this situation. The gratitude that I feel that he was willing to be a decoy to give us more time to escape danger. The debt I feel like I owe him, that can never be repaid. The fear in my heart, that he might hate me for failing to keep him safe. For failing to keep Emm safe._

 _How can I say any of this?_

" _Milord, might I be so bold as to make a request of you?" Frederick asks, breaking the silence at last._

" _Of course, whatever you need. What is it?"_

 _He sets aside his mug for a moment. "I attempted to inquire about such things to milady Lissa, but she wouldn't hear a word of it. I hope that you might feel differently about it." He takes a breath before going on. "I want to fight again. It is the role I have held for my entire adult life: I protect my lieges and my home from the enemy. I must find a way to return to the battlefield. Will you help me find a way?" he asks._

 _He wants to go_ back _? How could that have even entered his mind? He's already given more than any man with his level of dedication should ever be expected to. More than I could ever ask for. And yet he still wants to give more?_

 _But I see that look in his eyes. It's a plea. I would be helping him by giving this to him, his expression says to me._

" _Frederick… I'll do what I can. I'll talk to Robin, maybe Sully and Stahl too, see if we can't find some way to get you back on your mount. Are you sure this is what you want?"_

 _A rare smile from him. "Milord, nothing would make me happier than a triumphant return to the battlefield. I want to show our allies and enemies alike that nothing shall hold Sir Frederick the Wary back. I want to defend the halidom and your family properly once again."_

 _I raise my mug to him. "Then I will do everything I can to make sure that happens. You have my word."_

 _He raises his and clinks it against mine._

* * *

For what might be the first time ever, I'm the first one in the command wagon. Damn, those drinks must've hit Robin pretty hard.

When I hear the door open, though, it isn't Robin that comes in. It's Chrom.

"Ah, good morning, Randall. I was hoping Robin would be here by now," he says.

"I think she might be hungover. What did you need?" I ask.

"Well… I suppose there's no harm telling you either, since I'm sure Robin would tell you anyway. I want to devise a method to get Frederick back on the horse. I had a talk with him last night, and he told me he wants to fight again. I promised I'd find a way to make it happen."

"What, like a rig that props him up or something?"

He points a finger at me excitedly. "Exactly. Something that will allow him to sit up in the saddle while still allowing him to move enough to maneuver his weapons."

"Jeez, that's the most Frederick thing I think I've ever heard. Even as a paraplegic, he demands to be sat back on his horse and returned to the battlefield. But yeah, I'd be happy to help if there's anything I can do."

"Great! We might also need to get in touch with someone with some mechanical experience. Unfortunately, I don't know much myself," he says, crossing over to the war table. "I might be a decent fighter, but sometimes I'm ashamed of how little I know outside the realm of swordsmanship."

Walking over to join him, I say, "Well there's nothing to be ashamed of. That's what you've spent a huge part of your life devoted to, right? It makes sense that other things have had to be sacrificed for that."

"I guess. But say, for example, you and especially Robin, with your tactical skill. That's something I can't say I have at all. I'd have lost this war three or four times over without Robin at the helm, I think."

"Well, you said a while back that you wanted to learn. I know things kind of went crazy after that, but you still play a vital role in dispensing orders. It would help if you knew some of where those orders were coming from, right? So maybe you should try learning some yourself."

"That's not a bad idea, Randall. I've been feeling so helpless lately, it would probably feel good to start a new skill and tackle the basics. What are these charts for?" he asks, indicating what I'm pretty sure are the skill and prospective future skill charts.

"Robin uses these to keep track of what special skills each Shepherd has, and what she thinks they might have the potential to learn. Like, you and Frederick are both marked for having the ability to use a Luna attack. Gregor's skill as an Armsthrift is another example, since he's got all these secret techniques for keeping his sword in such good shape. We try to put people with complementary skills together, so it helps to know who can do what."

He examines the list carefully for a moment, then sets it aside. "What's this one?" he asks, pulling out another one.

"That's the aptitude chart. Kinda similar, just keeps track of who's proficient with different kinds of weapons. I think she has me listed as a 'possible' for lances, which is a little worrying, but generally it's just for reference."

"Why does she have me listed as a 'possible' for bows? I've never touched a bow in my life," Chrom says.

"Couldn't tell ya."

He reaches for another one, sealed with what looks like a heart-shaped clasp. "How about this one?"

I move to stop him unconsciously. "Uh, that's one we're not supposed to look at. For her eyes only, she says."

"Why, what's in it?"

"I'm pretty sure she keeps track of people's romantic prospects on that one. But apparently she doesn't trust even me to look at it, lest I start meddling with her meddling with other people's love lives," I say, a little miffed even though she isn't here to get miffed at.

He looks at me for a moment, hand still resting on the chart.

"...What?"

"Well? Don'tcha wanna look?" Chrom says, grinning like a kid next to a Christmas tree.

"Yo, I dunno about that. If Robin comes in and sees us looking at it, she's gonna be pissed. Doubly so if she's hungover," I say, edging nervously away from the war table.

"Yeah, but I don't see her anywhere yet. One look can't hurt. Plus, that's not very professional of her to keep such personal data on people, don't you think?" Chrom reasons.

"Well, since it's all speculative, I'd say it's less keeping personal data, and more like keeping a diary about other people," I reply.

"Don't you wanna know if she's put _herself_ with anyone?" Chrom asks seductively.

"Psh, who would she even put herself with? The only guys she spends even a decent amount of time with are…" We both pale a little. "...You and me…"

He pulls the chart out and slaps it onto the table. "We gotta look at this, Randall. For the team."

I walk back over to the table. "Well that just doesn't make any sense, but I agree. We should look at it. Briefly."

Why am I going along with this?

He giggles with anticipation as he undoes the clasp and starts unrolling the chart. I haven't seen him having this much fun in a long while, maybe ever. I guess that talk with Frederick he says he had must've done him a lot of good. Anyway, we both pore over the results.

…

Mostly unsurprising so far.

…

She's gonna need to change that to a 'super confirmed' after last night.

…

Really? I don't know if I see it, but I guess I had a goth girl phase when I was a teenager too. Maybe she's onto something.

…

For Virion she just has the word 'unlikely' written in the first box, then dragged across all the others in his row. Classy.

…

"Cordelia has an 'obvious infatuation' with me? Where does she get that from? Cordelia can hardly stand to talk to me!" Chrom says. Oh Cordelia, I am so sorry. It's not meant to be, even when it's in black and white in front of him.

…

Finally, we find Chrom's row near the bottom. He yelps in pain as we look it over.

"What the hell is this? 'No known prospects'? What does that even mean?" he demands incredulously. "I do so have prospects!"

I look down to my row and give it a once-over. I nudge Chrom. "Better than she's got me down for. Check it out." I point to where Maribelle's place in my row used to be, and whatever word used to be there has been scratched out. A small question mark was then drawn next to it as an apparent afterthought. "Now that's just uncool," I say. I also mentally note where she wrote I have a 'probable infatuation' with Cordelia. I have no idea how she knows that. Actually, she has that written for a few guys. Maybe she's just aware that Cordelia is a goddess and made some assumptions.

"Hang on!" Chrom says. "She didn't even give herself a row! She's not on here at all!"

That makes way too much sense. Robin, you poor robot.

"What are you two looking at?"

We both scream in an extremely dignified fashion, rolling up the chart in a panic but unable to re-clasp it before a very grumpy-sounding Robin snatches it from us.

"Well I hope you two are happy," she growls. "The integrity of the data is jeopardized now."

"Robin, you know that's not really 'data,' right? It's just you making guesses at who's gonna get together. You don't even have any reasons for your thinking written down," I say defensively.

"And a good thing I don't! Because you morons would've read that too– ow," she shouts, then realizes that shouting is hurting her head. She rubs her head gingerly with her free hand as she puts the romance chart back in with the others in her box. She goes to the other side of the table and opens a drawer, digging around until she finds what she's looking for: a small vial of vulnerary. She takes a sip, then recaps the bottle and stows it away. After a second, she sighs with relief. "That's much better. Not that it makes me any less annoyed with you two. Randall, I know for a fact I've made it clear to you that no one but me is supposed to see that chart."

"Yup! And now, having looked at it, I see that I got all worked up over nothing. You didn't even put any juicy gossip about yourself on it," I say smugly.

She scowls. "For one thing, again, it's a good thing I didn't. And for another, that's because I have no time for that sort of thing. I have a war to plan, and you two are hardly making that any easier. We've already spent too much time dawdling. I already made sure Frederick and Exalt Emmeryn were loaded up, so we're moving out."

"Oh yeah, speaking of Frederick," Chrom says. "Robin, there's something I'd like your help with…"

* * *

 **A/N: Happy November! I've had a hell of a month. In short: applications. I hope you guys liked this one! After all the crazy dramatic stuff we've had for the past few chapters, I thought it was time for some lighter fare for a change. Been a while, right? We're back in the action next time, though, so strap in, friends!  
**

 **As always, my beta readers need a shoutout, so if you haven't yet, check out Syntaxis' An Odd Awakening and Mixed Valence's Earthborne, because they are both top of the line stories brimming with potential, and they both have committed and skilled writers at the helm. Also check out the subreddit Syn started up at r/FireEmblemFanfiction! And here is your Syntaxis out of context quote of the week: "** **You got me. This is all an elaborate ruse to write a story with M!Preg."**

 **The poll regarding potential cover ideas is still up on my profile, so check that out as well! (It's essentially a character popularity poll I guess, so it's also helpful for me to see which characters are working for you guys) I'm also still looking for an artist that could take on a commission like that, so hit me up in the PMs if you know someone (or are someone) that fits the bill!**

 **As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**


	27. Ch 27: All According to Keikaku

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 27: All According to Keikaku**

Tharja staggers to her feet, clutching her chest even after I put it back together. She looks at me with that smile that I almost have a Pavlovian nauseous reaction looking at. She only smiles at me like that when I've done a good job blasting her nearly clean open.

"So, what were you thinking about that time? It hit pretty hard," she asks as she stands up straight. Well, as straight as she ever does; she's kind of got a perpetual slouch to her shoulders.

"Honestly? All I was thinking about was how scared I am that one of these will kill you outright." That's half true. What I'm really scared of is that if or when something like that happens, I'll enjoy the act. I'm trying to be cautious as hell about this stuff, constantly keeping in mind what she said before about dark mages losing their minds when they dive into their magic too much. Turns out that very fear, ironically enough, provides a nice fuel for the Flux spell itself.

She sniffs derisively. "I suppose it worked this time, but you'd better come up with something better than that. Fear is a powerful emotion, but I doubt you'll be quite so afraid of killing your enemies when they come bearing down on your friends. You should focus on developing your connection to the emotions you'll actually be tapping into when you use your magic in the field. Hate is always nice."

I shrug. "Sorry Tharja, I guess I just don't hate you. It's a little difficult to dredge up those emotions on command."

"That's why you need to spend more time ruminating on the faults of your enemies. Learn to detest people that would wrong you. Get better at deciding you despise someone soon after you first see them," she says.

"Yeah, that sounds healthy," I deadpan.

"You and Robin asked me to help you realize your potential. That's what you would have to do to reach that potential."

"I think we'll take it in baby steps, alright?" I reply, frowning as I ready my book to go again.

"If you're alright being a subpar mage between now and when you decide to toughen up, I suppose I can't stop you. I'm only going along with this at all because Robin asked me to," she says condescendingly. "Now, once more."

Her comment pisses me off just enough that I get a nice, powerful blast out of my next attempt. Wiped that patronizing look right off her face. I only remember to feel guilty about it when I'm putting her torso back together a few seconds later.

* * *

" _So, you suppose that because the Exalt still lives–"_

 _The hooded figure stops speaking mid-sentence to take a deep breath through their nose and out their mouth, as if smelling a fragrant flower. They smile as they exhale, making the air hiss slightly as it leaves their mouth._

" _My lord?" Validar asks after a moment._

" _What, what?" the hooded figure barks, irritated instantly._

 _Validar flinches. "It's just… you stopped talking in the middle of your thought. I am unsure what you meant by it."_

" _I never stop 'in the middle of my thought,' Validar. The thought was finished. Dead. Gone. Over." The smile is a forgotten memory beneath the figure's imposing snarl. "Do not presume to tell me what I think."_

" _O-of course, my lord. A thousand apologies," Validar stammers._

 _The figure looks away from Validar and takes another deep breath, the smile returning. "Things are going to get interesting again soon. I'm so glad."_

* * *

I'm not sure what it is lately, but for the past few nights the old nightmares have been letting up. If I'm still dreaming, it's nonspecific enough that I don't really remember them. I stretch gratuitously, grateful that I had another actually nice night of sleep even if I don't know the reason I'm getting them. It could be that these dark magic training sessions are wearing me out enough that my brain doesn't have the energy to craft such artfully painful dreams.

Or maybe I'm sleeping better because of the knowledge that we're nearly out of this godforsaken desert. Yeah, that's probably it, now that I think about it.

We get the camp packed up and get on the move. In an effort to make sure I'm staying in touch with the rest of the Shepherds rather than staying cooped up in the command wagon all day, I'm marching with the others. I almost instantly regret my choice when the sand starts invading my boots and clothes again. Just keep it going, Randy. We're almost out of the desert.

A light catches my eye. Near the front of the pack, I spot someone that looks like they leapt straight out of Assassin's Creed, pure white garments flowing gently in the desert wind. Oh wait, that's Libra with his hood up.

I decide I should talk with him a little. Partially because we share a profession, and partially because admittedly I know comparatively very little about the guy. Truth be told, Libra usually got benched in my old playthroughs. But now that we're all on equal ground, I want to get to know him just as well as anyone else.

"Yo, Libra!" I call from behind him. He stops walking, turning his head to look at me. "You holding up okay? Drinking water and all? The desert's nearly done, I think, but we still have this last bit to power through."

He smiles kindly. God damn is he pretty. "Good morning, Randall. I am doing well, but thank you for your concern. I'm glad to hear that we are nearly out of the desert, though; frankly this heat is something I'll be glad to put behind us."

"You're telling me. Ask anyone: I hate this place," I reply. We resume walking apace with everyone else.

He chuckles. "Loathe as I am to say I 'hate' any part of the gods' creation, if I were pressed to choose one thing…" He shakes a little sand off his robes. We both share a good natured laugh at the desert's expense. "I must admit, I haven't known you long, but you've made an impression. Am I right in thinking you're not actually a member of the clergy?"

"Yeah, that's right." I wonder if I should be insulted by his assumption.

"What motivates the robes, if I may ask?"

"Honestly, at this point it's largely because I don't own any other clothes." I show him where the ends of my sleeves have started fraying. "I don't even remember where I got them, but they're all I've had. You don't get a lot of opportunities to shop for clothes in wartime."

"I see. It sounds as though you have had it fairly rough. Please accept my sympathy," he says solemnly, bowing his head a little.

"What? Oh, no, it's not that I'm like super poor or anything. I've always had enough to get by, no problem. The Shepherds take really good care of their soldiers. I just haven't made the time to restock on some stuff," I reply.

Libra gives a small, pious smile. "I understand. You must be very committed to your duty, then."

I shrug. "Or really lazy. It's a toss-up."

"I suppose I can't argue with that, pending getting better acquainted with you."

I hold up a hand to stop the conversation. Oh my God. Is that a plant? I think I see a plant on the horizon. And like, not just one sad tree overlooking an oasis. That's a little collection of wild shrubs. That's _life_! Naturally occurring life!

The realization sweeps through the rest of the Shepherds in more or less the same moment. An almost disbelieving murmur breaks out, followed by some whoops and hollers, and soon we're all but running toward the promised land of water and plants. We don't really think about how far away the horizon actually is (it turns out, pretty far), so we have to slow back to a regular walk a good distance away from our precious plants, but even so, actually seeing a goal visually makes progressing toward it all the sweeter.

Before long, the sandy ground starts to thicken with soil and pebbles, giving our footsteps a source of actual resistance rather than leaving us to stumble on the interminable sand. After a while, we reach the plants at last. A good number of the Shepherds, myself included, give the first few shrubs a loving pat as we walk past them.

As the sand slowly gives up and defers dominance to the dry soil of the plains, I take the opportunity to remove my outer robes and, for what I hope is the last time in a long time, shake loose every particle of sand they've collected over the past few weeks.

After that hellish expedition, I'll almost be glad when we get back to the snowy north.

* * *

"Randall, Chrom, I remembered something," Robin says as we look over the map of northern Plegia. "Randall, that important thing that slipped my mind while we were drinking the other night. It came back to me as I was looking at this region's map a little bit ago."

"What is it, Robin?" Chrom asks in a sort of pumped-up tone, looking quite excited to be included in the tactical process this time.

She gets out her little set of wooden pieces she uses to represent military units on the planning table. Looks like we're planning a battle.

"I know what Plegia is going to do next. And I have a plan. We're going to need Kellam and Miriel's help, though. And I'll want you two to relay the plan to everyone before we go to bed tonight."

* * *

The following day, I revel in the scenery as the world just gets greener and greener with every step north. Soon a more forgiving, bouncy clay ground replaces the loamy half-soil we spent much of yesterday and this morning walking on, and not long after that, we start seeing proper lush grasses again.

It all puts me in such a good mood that my lunchtime dark magic training session suffers for it. I can't very well focus on negativity or hate when the novelty of being in a climate I actually like is still so fresh. Tharja isn't too pleased, of course, but frankly I think I can live with her disappointment. All it means is my magic isn't dealing life-threatening injuries to her person this time around. I'll focus on hating the enemy or whatever she wants later.

In the mid-afternoon, we crest a particularly tall hill, and once we're at the top I'm reminded of another major block in our way: Lake Medeus. It's a little ways off, but aside from the bridge station in front of us, I don't see a way across the lake, and it stretches beyond the horizon both east and west from here.

Like last time, Robin has us disarm and remove any visible armor before we approach the guards. We all place our weapons in easily accessible locations in our wagons, ready to snatch them up at a moment's notice if the need arises.

Like last time, Robin and Chrom approach the guard at the gate.

"Halt. What business do you have crossing the lake?" the guard asks gruffly.

"We are simply merchants, looking to transport our wares to the northern villages. The warm weather draws to a close, and the people living near the border will need supplies to fend off the winter," Robin says smoothly.

The guard nods. "Right. Off you go, then," he says simply.

Robin smiles. "Thank you kindly, sir. Everyone, let's get a move on. I don't want to have to stop on the bridge overnight."

I do my best to hold back my smirk as we pass the guard. Robin was right, at least so far.

The caravan moves as quickly as we can to get everything on the bridge and moving across the lake. At the same time, I'm being as covert as I can about slinking around the Shepherds, instructing all of them to get ready for battle.

Within a couple minutes, everyone is holding their weapons and is getting ready to fight. Robin and I arrange everyone such that our front and back lines have most of our heavies, with Stahl leading the cavalry up front and Chrom leading the infantry in back. The pegasus knights are up front for now, poised to take to the skies at the first sign of trouble. Stahl's also got Panne on Fennec with him, ready to leap off and transform in an instant. I'm in what I guess you could call the second line, gripping my staff at the ready behind the cavalry. Somehow I doubt I'll be seeing much action, as Maribelle will make a much more efficient healer for the cavalry than I will, but the back line already has Lissa, Libra, and Anna to cover them, so I'm better off up here just in case according to our fair tactician. Robin, Ricken, and Tharja are waiting atop the wooden roof of the command wagon to rain covering fire on either side of the conflict.

Robin calls down to me from above. "Randall, where's your tome?"

"In the wagon."

"Why don't you have it on you?"

"Because I'm still training with it. I don't want to use anything I'm not ready to yet," I reply. I'm not going to have a repeat of Breakneck and the Rescue staff, thank you very much.

"Go get it anyway. Even if it's just as a last resort, it's better to be able to defend yourself," she commands.

In response, I pantomime a swing with my staff.

She pinches the bridge of her nose. "I mean _really_ defend yourself."

"I'm not fully trained to use it yet! It'll hardly do me any good if I can't wield it properly. Besides, swinging this thing at people's heads has worked surprisingly well so far."

Tharja interrupts. "You should get the tome. You're more ready than you think." Not sure how I feel about that smile.

I consider for a moment. As much as I'm not yet confident about using dark magic, I can't exactly say it's because I think I can't make the book kill somebody. It's more my mental hangups about the magic's potential effects on me. But if I had to defend myself or my friends, I could probably put those hangups aside, right? I've killed before, after all. And if I'm fighting for a good reason, hopefully I can keep a lid on the magic.

That's right. You're only doing what you have to do to keep your friends safe. Using anything less than every available tool at your disposal is irresponsible. You have a duty to protect everyone, just like every Shepherd does.

I dig back through my pack and get the Flux tome Tharja gave me. In order to have it ready to go, though, I have to strap my Mend staff to my back rather than holding it, so my left hand is free to cast the spell. If I have to get the staff out, that works one-handed.

I rejoin the second line, marching quietly and waiting for the enemy to make a move. The fighting cavalry are riding a good couple dozen feet ahead, looking to give themselves some maneuvering room if they need it. Fleur-de-lis trots next to me. Maribelle looks like she wants to say something, but she only opens her mouth and shuts it again a couple times.

"You good, Maribelle?" I ask.

"Yes, it's just… I thought you told me you didn't have an aptitude for tome magic. What's that?"

Did I not tell her I can use dark magic? I guess I didn't really tell anybody specifically aside from Chrom, Robin, and Tharja, now that I think about it. "Yeah, I don't, at least for anima magic. But it turns out, I can use dark magic without a problem. I'm still learning from Tharja, but I think it's coming along." I remember that gut-twisting feeling I get when Tharja does that smile of hers. "Mostly. Anyway, she and Robin seem confident enough that I can use it well enough. Like usual, it seems it's just a matter of getting out of my own head. Same song, different verse, right?"

I can't tell what she's thinking from that expression. "Right. I must admit I'm surprised, though. And here I thought Tharja was the first dark mage I had ever met. It seems it was you, though." What's with that look?

"Well, I wouldn't be surprised if a few of us have the aptitude for it, actually. I mean come on, you've met Robin. What are the chances that demon in human clothes can't sling a few dark spells?" I ask. I'm pretty sure Miriel and Cordelia could reclass to dark mages too, right? The details of the game get fuzzier all the time, and who knows how much of that was accurate anyway?

She smirks. "Hardly the most flattering moniker. Perhaps I should tell her you called her that behind her back."

I shrug. "I'd call her that to her face, just the same. She knows I think she's scary as hell."

"Regardless, point taken. It's just… for those of us who grew up in the western provinces of Ylisse after Gideon's War, there's a certain, well, I suppose you could call it a stigma. Part of why so many of my colleagues in the healer's school took such pride in their calling was the element of national identity behind it, you see. Healing magic is Ylissean, and dark magic is Plegian, or so the generalizations went. Of course, everyone knew it wasn't fully true, but it's easy to oversimplify when you're a child. And it is true that there are much more people with healing aptitude in Ylisse, and much more dark mages in Plegia. It's rare to have someone who can do both," she says.

"Fair enough. If I promise I'm not working for the Plegians, will that quell your suspicions?" I ask with a small smirk. Better to make my concern seem like a joke, I figure.

"I never said I was suspicious of you!" she protests. "It's not a bad thing, I just mean it's unfamiliar to me is all."

"Randall! Maribelle!" I hear Robin call behind us. I turn to look, and she's pointing toward the watchtowers behind us. From the tower on our left, a bright flare has been shot straight into the air. Down on the ground, a group of soldiers is forming into ranks. It's hard to tell from this distance, but it looks like they're mostly spearmen and archers. I turn back toward the other side of the bridge, and about the same distance in the other direction, another group is forming up. Looks like they planned to trap us in the middle of the bridge and pincer attack us.

I smile.

Just like Robin planned.

"Sumia! Cordelia! Into the sky!" Robin commands, and the pegasus knights take off, far above the range of the ground archers. She turns back to the back line. "Chrom! Keep pace with us for as long as you can, and only engage when we absolutely must. They must believe they have us."

"Right!" he calls back as the caravan slowly proceeds down the bridge.

The groups of Plegians start advancing. They've formed sort of phalanxes, moving as one unit with shields raised and lances out in front of them. Behind them, the archers wait to get into range.

Closer. Closer… Just a little more…

"MIRIEL! NOW!" Robin shouts.

The lines of archers behind the caravan shout in pain as they burst into flame. A few collapse where they stand, while others desperately leap into the lake in the hopes of putting out the flame and saving themselves. Regardless, all the archers are taken down in very short order.

At last, Kellam's talent for going unseen was used to its fullest potential. As we passed through the gate, he had slipped away unseen and, hiding his fiancée behind his massive shield, ducked behind the checkpoint entrance and kept both of them hidden in the shadow of the east tower. As the Plegians formed up, they made sure to let them get in front of them without being seen. Following behind the group, the archers were sitting ducks as all their potential defenders were on the wrong side of them. This allowed Miriel to use the new Arcfire tome that Anna had picked up in town to blast the entire enemy line in the backs with a massive stream of fire. Of course, she didn't stop just because the archers were all dispatched in a moment. Defended by her fiancé's shield, she now continues to blast the lancers with Arcfire, disrupting their phalanx and opening their formation up for Chrom and the others to engage with relative safety. The pincer tactic is broken, and the southern force is all but doomed.

As for the northern half, we have to be a little different with our tactics. Rather than attacking from behind, we're distracting them from above. There's no real way for us to stop a volley of arrows normally if they're fired at us on such a narrow bridge. However, Sumia and Cordelia are doing an excellent job of running interference on their archers. They're staying generally at too great a height to hit, but still swooping in every once in a while to try and pick one of them off and make sure they have the archers' full attention as often as possible.

Meanwhile, Robin, Ricken, and Tharja are firing at the phalanx from atop the wagon, but not a lot of their attacks are really connecting. It's not entirely clear why until Robin shouts, "They've got a medic with a Ward staff! We have to break their ranks physically!"

Unfortunately, on the physical side things aren't going so well. Panne, Stahl, and Sully are doing their best to probe the phalanx for weaknesses, but they don't seem to be finding any. It's especially taxing for Stahl, who's fighting through a weapon disadvantage. He takes a few hits, but Maribelle is quick to patch him up and then retreat back to where I'm standing. Even so, their advance isn't breaking pace, and it's only a matter of time before we will have to back up, a nearly impossible feat for our wagons on this bridge as there isn't enough width to pull a U-turn. Robin's plan to rain magic on the phalanx from above isn't working, and we're getting backed into a corner now.

Disaster strikes. The first thing to go wrong is Stahl having his sword knocked out of his hand by a well-placed stab from the phalanx as he passes by. This is followed swiftly by another jab aimed straight at his neck, stopped only by a hasty lifting of his buckler. Even then, the blow is forceful enough to knock him from his horse and off the edge of the bridge, sending him plummeting into the water below. Seconds later, Panne wordlessly leaps from the bridge to join him, though I'm not sure what she hopes to accomplish. When I peek over the edge briefly, I see her transformed form supporting the drenched Stahl while kicking furiously under the water. It's keeping him above water for now, but I can tell she can't keep that up forever. She takes them under the bridge so the archers won't have a chance to open fire on them.

With that, most of our front line is diminished. Vaike, Gaius, Lon'qu, and Gregor move from the waning action behind the caravan to join us up front and bolster our line, but none of us can seem to break their ranks, and their Ward medic is keeping them safe from the barrage of magic the mages keep hurling their way. Meanwhile, the archers are getting more aggressive as well, since Cordelia has to stop running interference on them so she can try to find and opening to pick up Stahl and Panne from the lake without getting fired on from above. Something's gotta change, and soon. Ideally we could get rid of the Ward guy, allowing our mages to open up their lines, but the medic is nestled comfortably between the phalanx and the archers, where just about nothing can get him.

Unless someone can get dropped into the middle of the pack where he's standing. Now there's a thought. Could that work? The response from our front line would have to be immediate to keep the drop guy from getting swamped instantly. But if we can get a well-coordinated effort going…

"Hey Robin! I've got an idea! Get Sumia back down here, then make sure that everyone's ready to push at once," I call up to her.

I watch the gears turn in her head for a second as she puts my idea together. "Randall, that's stupid! What makes you think that would work?"

"That's why I'll drop in. So we don't have to feel like we put anyone else at such a stupid risk. And if I'm wrong, I'm wrong. We can deal with that later," I reply, trying to be guarded about what I'm actually saying for any other listeners. This run isn't going to be viable for much longer if our soldiers keep getting pushed off the bridge, so something needs to change, now. So if I die attempting this, then it's just a bonus as opposed to having to do the deed myself.

"Shouldn't we send someone with better physical defense?" Robin asks. "You've never been one to tank melee hits very well." As she speaks, Gregor and Gaius shout in alarm as they too get forced off the bridge. We've got a lot of people treading water down there now.

"No time to get someone else. Besides, you'll coordinate the others to make sure I don't have to take any hits, right? We have to wave Sumia down," I say firmly. "And the moment I've got their medic taken care of, the mages need to start mowing the phalanx down and open their lines for the melee guys. Otherwise I'm gonna get killed for sure."

A split second's hesitation later, Robin nods and whistles sharply into the sky. Sumia looks down at us, and Robin waves her arm to summon Sumia back down to the ground. We've gotta be quick about this, I realize, as the company of archers avert their gaze from Sumia and start eyeing the mages on top of the wagon.

The moment Sumia is in range, Robin shouts, "Sumia! Take him!" and points to me. To Sumia's credit, her usual clumsiness seems all but gone when she's atop her mount, and she makes an incredibly sharp turn to veer down to my position. I hold up a hand, gripping my tome tightly in the other. She swoops down beside me and, not slowing down at all, grabs my hand and yanks me onto Kestral's back behind her. Damn near dislocates my shoulder doing it, too.

"What now?" Sumia asks, turning her head slightly to hear me better.

"Drop me on that guy with the staff. Right on top. Then keep on those archers and get them off the mages. We're gonna need them," I half-shout over the wind in my ears and her hair blowing in my face.

"Got it. Get ready," she says, pulling Kestral into another tight turn and starting our descent back down to the bridge, aimed straight at the center of their pack where the medic stands. Jesus Christ we're going fast. Oh shit quite a few archers are turning toward us. Holy hell this was a bad idea! I can't help shouting in fear as we soar toward the ground.

At what seems like the last possible second to me, Sumia finally pulls up just enough to avoid a crash, slowing us down enough that I can jump off without my legs shooting up through my shoulders. Keep your eye on the target, Randy. Don't pay attention to the couple dozen guys getting ready to kill you in just a second here. There he is.

The medic whirls to face me the moment I land on the stone bridge. He shouts for help, and a couple lancers turn their heads and prepare to pull out of the phalanx to dispatch me. A couple archers are trying to aim past each other to get a good shot at me, but fortunately most of them are occupied with Sumia for the moment. In other words, I've got a good four or five people surrounding me, all looking to skewer me with sharp metal.

Does stress count as an emotion? My Flux tome seems to think so, as the book downright shakes in my hand as I whip open the cover and pull a spell from a page. With every passing instant, as my would-be killers get closer, the spell gets stronger in my hand, until I have to let it go or else it might explode. I point my left hand at the medic's face and release the spell. The kick from the spell hits my arm like a shotgun recoil, and my torso jerks violently back as the Flux fires. A flash of darkness and a second later, the man falls to the ground, hands idly clutching his withered head.

The lancers are about to reach me. I won't have time to pull out a second spell before one of them gets me. I'm sure the archers are about to shoot as well. This is it. Either the run ends here or Robin pulls through for me.

A golden flash from my left confirms that my prayers have been answered as one of the lancers collapses to the stone, seizing up from the Elthunder shock that just drilled through him. The other lancer takes a stab, but fortunately I manage to contort my torso right and dodge it. No time to cast anything, so I settle for punching him in the face as he leans into his missed stab. It's enough to knock him off-balance, and he stumbles back a bit. Seizing my chance while I have it, I kick him in the chest, sending him careening off the bridge and down into the lake.

The sound of fire and lightning around me assures me that Robin was able to coordinate a timely attack on the phalanx. The melee guys start busting through the line, with Vaike and Lon'qu at the front, cleaving the pack in half like the Red Sea. It's such a distracting sight that I don't notice until too late that one of the archers has a clear shot on me. The arrow enters the left side of my abdomen, seizing the breath out of my lungs. My teeth clench so tight they threaten to chip each other. Even so, if I don't get hit again, this is hardly lethal. I think.

A moment later, I hear a scream from the other side of the pack (I hesitate to call it a phalanx now) that chills the blood in my veins. That was Maribelle, no mistake. I can just barely see her atop her horse over all the chaos between us. She's using her staff to try to fend off one of the lancers, who apparently broke away from the group when the integrity of their formation failed. As she turns slightly, I can see by the blood staining her pants that she's already been stabbed once by this guy. She's going to lose this fight, and soon.

 _Fear is a powerful emotion, but I doubt you'll be quite so afraid of killing your enemies when they come bearing down on your friends._

She was right. I'm not afraid. I'm mad.

Everything else fades to a blur. The fighting around me, the pain in my side, all of it, takes a distant, distant second to getting to Maribelle right this second. I rip open the Flux tome and pull out the magic that's all too willing to come along for this ride. One Plegian falls before me, his chest concaved by the decay the dark magic inflicts on him. I faintly feel the wind of a swung weapon that only barely misses me as someone from the Shepherds steps in to block the blow on my behalf. I lose sight of Maribelle in the midst of the chaos. Another Plegian gets in my way and takes a stab at me, and I feel the tome sing quietly in the back of my head as I take out his leg and, while he tries to regain a sense of balance, kick him off the bridge. The exertion of doing that sharpens the pain in my side and makes my breath catch, but I can't stop now. A second cry from Maribelle, calling my name, is all the encouragement I need to renew my effort. I sling spell after spell, letting the tome do the work for me as I finally let loose and tear open a path to her. And when I've finally gotten through to the other side of the fighting, I find–

Nothing. Someone's already killed the man who was attacking Maribelle, and Lissa is closing up her wounds without any trouble. She's safe. But she's still looking at me with such fear on her face. As if she's still in danger.

I'm still furious. I can't relax. The tome in my hand shakes with the desire to punish the Plegians for harming my friends. For harming Maribelle. You know what? Fine, let's go back in.

I turn around, and while the fighting is definitely moving in one direction, it's still going strong. I pull another spell from the tome and sling it at the lancer that Lon'qu is fighting, hitting the man in the arm and rendering his shield arm useless just in time for Lon'qu to relieve him of his head. He turns his head just slightly to look my way and, though his brows rise in surprise, he still nods in acknowledgement of my help. I'd respond, but I'm already throwing spells at the other enemies left.

It feels right. These guys are scum after all. They deserve to be put down. I'm doing the world a favor putting people like this down. I start walking closer to the fray, getting ready to dive back in, but a hand on my shoulder stops me. I whirl around angrily, prepared to fry whoever stopped me if it's one of the Plegians, but thankfully I manage to stop just in time to prevent myself from blasting Libra in the face.

"This explains a lot," he says with an understanding look on his face. "Randall, we can take it from here. Let me heal the wounds you sustained."

"I'm fine. Let me go," I reply, but as I try to turn away he tightens his grip, stopping just short of the pain threshold. With his other hand, he takes the Flux tome from my grip despite my attempts to hang onto it. The moment it leaves my hand, my senses sharpen and I become aware of how much pain I'm actually in.

"You are not, I'm afraid, and I will not," he says, guiding me back toward the command wagon.

"Libra, do you have it covered?" I hear Robin call from above.

"Yes, no need to worry, Robin," he calls back. With that, he lays me down on the stone (greatly uncomfortable, considering I'm lying on the Mend staff strapped diagonally across my back) and I get a look at what he and Robin are so worried about. I took more hits than just the arrow in my haste to get to Maribelle. I was stabbed in the stomach at least once, and my left thigh has a cut that's bleeding freely. Aches in other places on my body suggest that I actually got knocked around a great deal as well, and I just didn't notice.

"Libra," I struggle to say. "Don't let me lose consciousness."

"I will do what I can," he replies, and before I can say or think anything else he yanks the arrow out of my side, earning a pained groan from me. He closes his eyes to focus his energy on healing me. I'd managed to forget how much getting healed hurts like a bitch. All the nerves that get stitched back together have this habit of celebrating their newfound wholeness by sending a big shock of pain up to the brain to deal with. Despite my best efforts, a few shouts of pain escape as the wounds close.

"Get him in the command wagon," I hear Robin's voice order from up above. "We've got this covered, so tell him there's no need to worry. And Randall, I expect you to stay there until I come to get you."

Even though I want to rejoin the fight, my exhausted struggles don't amount to much as the surprisingly strong Libra carries me into the wagon and sits me up against a crate.

"Everyone is going to be alright, Randall. Cordelia has already started collecting our comrades who fell below the bridge, and they all appear to be safe. Princess Lissa and the others are taking care of them now," Libra assures me as he leaves the wagon.

As much as I want to will my body to get up, it takes all my effort just to stay conscious, so I have no choice but to focus on that and just wait. I just hope the fighting is nearly done.

* * *

 _Randall, you idiot._

 _Of course, everything is going well. He might have gone overboard later in the fight, but he managed to pull off dispatching the medic without any issues. And then, the instant the Ward went down, the Shepherds were poised to charge. Ricken, Tharja, and I aren't having any issues weakening the opposition enough that the melee fighters can clean up without much trouble. Meanwhile, the last archer company is in disarray after their defensive line has crumbled. Most of the ones that our magic blasts or Virion's arrows aren't taking down are fleeing for their lives down the bridge, tripping over one another in an effort to not be the closest to us. If it hadn't been for that damned Ward, this is what the fight would have been like in the first place._

 _Oh well. Cordelia and now Sumia as well are bringing up the Shepherds who fell into the lake, and Lissa and the other healers are seeing to them. With the four active healers to work with, there doesn't seem to be anything to worry about. We've won the day with no casualties and only moderate setbacks._

 _Still, what the hell happened back there? I've never seen Randall look like that. It wasn't so much the strength of his performance; if anything, it was fairly average for a mage to be able to take out three or four disorganized and panicked units. But the way he acted, the way he moved. I don't know if he was even aware of how much he was being hurt. He barely reacted to getting stabbed in the stomach, nor did he react to Maribelle screaming for him when she saw it happen except to just get angrier. The cuts and knocks that he received didn't phase him._

" _That Randall may have some promise after all," Tharja says as I'm overseeing the cleanup. Does she have to stand so close?_

" _What do you mean?" I ask._

" _I told him that he'd have to let loose if he ever wanted to be worth anything as a dark mage, and it looks like he's finally willing to listen. It was hardly a display to write home about, but that determination, that giving into his anger…" She giggles. "Not bad for a novice."_

" _You mean you encouraged him to act like that?" I ask, aghast._

 _She shrugs. "It's the only way to draw anything of worth out of a dark tome. The magic will do a lot of the heavy lifting for you if you let it, and that's the way every sorcerer worth their salt operates."_

" _You understand that he could have gotten himself killed, right?"_

" _Dark mages do their finest work under the threat of death. Did you see the way his magic spiked after he took that arrow to the side? Pain and anger and passion are all close relatives, and one can usually help you tap into another. I was starting to think I'd have to start smacking him to get those kinds of results in training," she replies._

" _Okay, fine, but Tharja, I can't believe I have to actually say this out loud:_ I don't want our allies to die. _I'm not saying it's your fault this happened, but is there really no other way for him to become proficient with this?" I am currently resisting the urge to shake her._

" _Well, like with anything, raw talent is refined by training. He'll get better at tapping into those emotions over time. They'll become more natural, and then making effective use of them gets easier."_

" _So getting better at dark magic entails literally just becoming a more angry, hateful person?" I ask._

" _Well, you could put it that way, I suppose…" She averts her eyes and scowls in response to the disbelieving look I give her. "What? This is what you asked for, remember?"_

" _I didn't know that making him a competent dark mage involves turning him into a crazy person!" I reply. "Why would anyone do this?"_

" _Because dark magic is the most powerful resource a mage can tap into," Tharja says. "I can use anima magic as well, just like most dark mages, but there's rarely a reason to bother, unless you have no access to a dark tome. The allure of power is strong. I would know."_

 _I can't deny that makes sense. If someone is only seeking power, there's no better way to gain it, even if it costs you your mental stability. It actually explains the behavior of a lot of dark mages we've met so far. Present company included, if I'm being honest. It accounts for Tharja's more obsessive tendencies, at least._

" _Even so, we can't risk anyone's sanity. There has to be another way to do this," I say at last._

" _Are there other ways? Maybe. But I don't know them, and I hardly think they can come close to the level that just tapping into your emotions achieves," Tharja replies, sounding a little offended. I suppose I am speaking quite harshly about her way of life, after all. And maybe it's not the worst thing in the world, either. Tharja might be decidedly creepy, and concerningly fixated on me, but she's hardly a bad person. Just… different._

 _I wonder what she'd be like outside the influence of dark magic._

 _Tharja takes her leave of me to go do whatever she does on her own time, but I'm not left alone for long. Libra approaches me, his formerly white robes spattered with red._

" _Robin, everyone is recovered and fully healed. No complications, and no one lost consciousness. We also recovered this," he says, handing me a metal staff._

" _What is this?" I ask, turning it in my hands._

" _The Plegian healer's Ward staff. We should definitely hang onto it, as they're quite valuable, especially seeing as it's likely that we will face more Grimleal dark mages in the future."_

 _I hold it at my side. "Excellent. Thank you for the report."_

 _He bows slightly. "Please let me know if I can be of further assistance, Robin."_

* * *

I feel like a giant dickhead.

The one thing, _the one thing_ I didn't want to allow to happen, and I blow it. Looking back on it, it's so obvious to me that I let my emotions get drawn out way too much by the magic, and the tome took the reins. Or, you know, made my emotions take the reins. God I hate this soft-ass science sometimes. The magic capitalized on my anger and blew it up beyond my ability to control it. Was it a moment of power? Sure, I guess, but I also nearly got killed. On top of that, I'm pretty sure I nearly killed Libra, or at least nearly ruined his good looks for life. And then there's the fact that the anger didn't dissipate when I saw that Maribelle was out of immediate danger. It shifted to a desire to punish and avenge, not protect. It's _exactly_ what I didn't want to allow this dark magic training to do to me.

"God damnit," I say to myself as I kick an empty crate to the other wall of the command wagon, just to give my body something to do. I've been hanging out here for a good twenty minutes or so, even though it sounds like the fighting must have stopped a while ago. I'm waiting on something to develop but reluctantly obeying Robin's order that I stay here. I don't think I want to see anyone else right now anyway.

As if to remind me who's boss, the universe sends someone into the wagon the moment that thought crosses my mind.

Before I can say anything, Robin holds up a hand and starts talking. "I know. We don't need to talk much about it. I'm sorry I pressured you to use the tome; from now on, I'll defer to your judgment on what you're ready for. Let's try and leave this behind us as much as possible, alright?"

I do a mental double-take. I thought for sure I was about to get chewed out, or at least be asked to explain myself. Does she not want to even hear it?

"Uh, are you sure? I mean yeah, I want to leave it behind too, but–"

"Look, things got a little out of hand today. I talked a bit with Tharja about what happened, and she doesn't seem to think it's the end of the world. Of course, she's hardly the most stable person, so I'll be taking that with a ladle of salt. But it won't help us to mope or beat ourselves up about it. We just have to keep going. We're not out of the woods yet. Until we get out of Plegia we don't have time to focus on anything else." She crosses over to the table and the wagon shudders into motion. "And gods as my witness, I am getting tired of all these blame games and apologies. Aren't you?"

I move to join her. "When you put it like that, it's hard to disagree."

"We're working with things we aren't familiar with. There will be hiccups. But you'll get better, just like you have with healing techniques. We just have to figure out a sustainable way to do it is all."

At first I'm reluctant to let the matter drop, since I still feel so guilty about losing control. But seeing how sincere she looks helps me relax a bit. I take a deep breath and reorient my mind. I notice something in her hand for the first time since she walked in. "Is that a staff?"

"Oh, this? It's the Ward staff that the Plegian healer was using. I figured you'd be able to make the best use of it," she says, holding it over the table to me.

I take it and feel that familiar tingle in the metal. "I guess. I don't really know how to use one, though. Maybe Libra can show me how it's done."

"That sounds like a good idea. Give you something less… taxing to train with for awhile." She looks a little guilty. Despite her desire to quit with all the apologizing, I can tell she feels like what happened was her fault. It makes me all the more sure that this will be a good course for me to take.

"Exactly. I could do with a less, uh, unusual teacher for a while, I think," I say, giving her a reassuring smile. "And I maintain still that the staff is my true calling, regardless of this new development."

She gives me a look that tells me she knows what I'm up to. She huffs with a tired smile. The door to the wagon opens and Chrom walks in, prompting Robin to resume her more professional air. "In any case, overall we can call today a win," she says. "Small freakouts notwithstanding, and barring the surprise appearance of our friend the Ward healer, we were able to anticipate their moves almost exactly, and the Shepherds responded to orders and adapted skillfully. I'm pleased with our results."

Chrom says what I was thinking too. "Uh, 'we were able'? Robin, that was pretty much all you today."

"I mean, I didn't want to sound like I was boasting," she replies.

"Nice," I say.

"Well? He called me out on it, and I explained myself!" Robin fires back defensively. Chrom and I share a glance. She clears her throat. "Anyway, as I was saying. We were able to collect some supplies from our fallen enemies. We've replenished our arrow supply and then some, so Virion is in a good mood of course. Vulneraries and concoctions were scrounged up as well. Everyone appeared to be generally in high spirits, no doubt both because of the victory today as well as the joy of being in a temperate climate again. I expect we won't see much more opposition from the Plegian military from here to the border, as Plegia is still largely intimidated by Ferox and has so far kept a respectable distance. Of course, we'll need to be prepared for another fight if I'm wrong and they think they can press their luck in the wake of the Feroxi military's expedition south. Even so, with the border guard still installed in place, it's unlikely. I don't like lowering our guard even a little, but I will tentatively suggest that we can relax for now."

"So when we get back to Ferox, what's next for us?" Chrom asks.

"I imagine the first thing we'll want to do is make sure we can retake Ylisstol. Taking the fight to Gangrel is important, but not until we can launch attacks from our own turf. Eventually we will want to retake Themis, as it will not only be familiar territory to a few of our Shepherds, but it will hopefully prove an advantageous point of entry into Plegia. However, we will need to confer with the khans before we make any final calls, as nothing is getting done without the help of their numbers."

So we're going back to Themis, huh? I guess it makes sense strategically, but admittedly I never expected it. I don't know how I feel about it. I was so opposed to going back before, but do I still think that way now? Am I ready to see that place again? Looks like I'm going to find out either way.

"Anyway, I suppose that wraps things up for now." I have no idea what Robin was saying near the end of her plan, but I'd feel silly asking her to repeat it now. Instead I just take my leave and hop out of the moving wagon. If nothing else, it's nice to be walking on green grass and dark soil again.

I'm not on my own for more than a minute or so before I hear a voice behind me. "Randy? If you're finished with your meeting with Robin and Chrom, I would have a word with you."

I look behind me as Maribelle rides Fleur-de-lis up along my left side to join me. She's wearing my absolute favorite expression: unfiltered worry. I sigh internally before addressing her.

"Let me guess. I really freaked you out today and you want to make sure I'm alright," I deadpan.

She huffs. "Well, try not to take it too personally that I worried a little. You were half dead on your feet and didn't seem to know it. But if that's how my concern is rewarded, perhaps I'll find someone else to plague for a while."

"Alright, that was pretty mean. My bad. But really, I'm alright. It's a sharper learning curve than I expected is all."

"You know, this time I'm hardly inclined to blame you for it in the first place. It's that Robin! If I'm not mistaken, it was on her orders that you brought the tome into battle to begin with, correct?"

"Well, I don't know that I'd call it _orders_ per se…" I reply, looking off to the side to avoid meeting her eye. "It was more like a suggestion that I agreed with in the end."

"What's the difference? It's not like you'd ever say no to a _suggestion_ from her either."

"The difference is that I could've if I had wanted to. I was wrong, we both were. Well, actually, all three of us were, if you count Tharja, though I suspect she actually knew something like this might happen. She just didn't care. And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Has there ever been a time where Robin asked you to do something and you didn't do it?" she asks with just a hint of smugness to her tone.

"Well, for one thing, I'm pretty sure she still wants me to take up the lance to train with, which I've refused to this day. And for another, I initially resisted her pushing me to learn dark magic until I could approach it on my own terms. I'm not her servant; I'm her student. And even then, it's more like a collaborative effort most of the time than a teacher-student one," I say, trying to keep my defensive tone under control.

"I see. Perhaps I was mistaken then. Still, the pair of you have been spending a great deal of time together lately. I'm sure you can understand why I'd start thinking she'd used her charms to get you wrapped around her finger."

"As if. That robot wouldn't know how to use her charm to seduce a guy if he came with a written set of instructions."

She mouths the word 'robot' for a moment, taking the word in and presumably working out what it meant by context. "Anyway, it's not my intention to scold you or anything like that. It just feels as though I haven't had a proper conversation with anyone in ages. Even my dear Lissa is so busy lately with taking care of the Exalt that I hardly see her on her own anymore. Of course, it's good that she's taking care of her elder sister, but where does that leave me?"

"You been to see Emmeryn much since Golgotha?" I ask.

"I've taken a few opportunities to check in, but it's a little… I don't know how to say it. The Exalt always seemed so serene and delicate, as if she were made of glass. The way she is now just accentuates that. Pre-cracked glass, if you will. I'm afraid I will do something wrong and upset or even harm her whenever I'm in the room with her. And if she were to get upset, it's not as though she could really tell me what's wrong, is it? I suppose it's all irrational fear on my part, yet I can't shake the nervousness about being around her."

"I can understand that. It's hard to know what you can do for someone in a situation like that. I guess the biggest thing is making sure she's comfortable and keeping on the mend," I reply.

"That's true. And from what Lissa tells me, she is making steady strides toward recovery all the time. That's all we can hope for, don't you think?"

"Yeah. And hell, hopefully just getting out of that damned desert will do her some good. Getting her to a place that looks a little more like home might jog some memories."

"Perhaps. It's been a while since we've been in a place that looks anything like home, that's for sure," she says, looking across the rolling hills toward the east.

I remember something that might improve her mood. "Oh yeah! Robin told me and Chrom that her plan for attacking Plegia will have us retaking Themis to use it as a launch point for our forces at the border. Looks like we'll be going back pretty soon."

"Is that so? That's good news," she replies in a tone that suggests it's not actually that great.

"I think it will be good to get a chance to free your home for good. And since Robin considers it a critical strategic point, we'll have the whole might of Ylisse and Ferox behind us when we retake it. We're gonna win this," I say.

She closes her eyes and takes a breath. When her eyes open again, she's wearing a tentative smile. "Of course. As apprehensive as I may be about seeing my home again after what happened, as long as I have the Shepherds with me, I think I can do it."

It's a little hard to tell if she means it or if she's just acting for my benefit, but either way I decide to take her at face value.

"I know you can."

* * *

" _Well hello there, Mister Randall."_

" _Oh hell, more of this?"_

" _What, did you think that you'd seen the last of me?"_

" _I'll admit, I was kinda hoping, yeah."_

" _Typical, leaving a job half-done is very much in your character, after all."_

" _Is this about what happened with the dark magic today? I think I beat myself up about that plenty, don't you?"_

" _I'm here, aren't I?"_

" _What do I have to do to get some goddamn rest, Mindy?"_

" _Face the things you refuse to acknowledge, obviously. Admit the truth to yourself."_

" _What truth? What have I denied?"_

" _Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you."_

" _A regular ray of sunshine, as always."_

" _You're one to talk. I bet that man you kicked into the lake after blasting off his leg drowned down there. Probably struggled for a long time to stay afloat. You didn't even give him the courtesy of a quick death like that healer whose head you evaporated. Do you even know how many people you killed today?"_

" _Look, it's not like I was completely myself. I've already decided to modify the way I approach this dark magic stuff and slow my roll a good bit. And those guys were going to be killed anyway. This is a war, remember?"_

" _You seemed like you were having a good bit of fun."_

" _Are you kidding? I was pissed. I don't think I've ever been so mad in my life."_

" _Just because you're mad, doesn't mean you weren't having fun. You enjoyed getting that angry. I know it. It was a high you've never experienced before. Mark me, that dark magic is addictive, and it's already got you."_

" _What am I supposed to say? 'I can stop anytime I want'? This isn't like developing a coke habit or something; getting good at containing and using dark magic will provide a concrete good to the Shepherds. To the world. Regardless of how I might feel when I use this power, using it does not make me a selfish person."_

" _It does if you use it for a selfish reason."_

" _But like I said, this is to help people. I want to ultimately save lives if I can."_

" _So you tell yourself. But don't forget: I see everything going through your mind. I know you. And I'll know when you lie, even to yourself."_

* * *

 _Mustafa, musclebound though he may be, can't help but shiver briefly in the chill of the desert night. Even so, his pride won't let him equip a proper coat. Well, that and his gnawing fear that the Plegian military might turn up any moment to accost him and his allies. Even though he encouraged his men to stay behind rather than put their families in danger by deserting as he was, nine of his closest subordinates refused to abandon their general, even at the cost of abandoning the army. He is grateful for their loyalty and for their companionship on the long journey east, but he is equally worried for their safety._

" _General," his companion at the front of the group calls back to Mustafa, "there is a light up ahead. Should we circle south to avoid them?"_

" _If we go much further south, we will end up either having to pass through the most burdensome portion of the Morzas Mountains, or worse, end up at the Dragon's Table. We can try to divert slightly south to pass unseen, but I fear that is the best we can do without simply turning around and fleeing," Mustafa replies._

 _And so the group, moving as quietly as possible, proceeds southeast, praying that whatever group is up ahead is either friendly or unobservant. The vastness of the desert, however, means they must also be quick, or else the light of the morning sun will betray them unless they are far beyond the horizon by then. As a result, the group struggles to find a balance between stealth and speed._

 _For hours the group toils, hurrying along and keeping a nervous eye on the lights to their north, knowing that if the military ever learned of their location, there is little hope in a place like this for escape. Slowly, slowly, the group passes the lights and starts putting some distance between them. The group breathes a collective sigh of relief._

 _Then, a flash of light splits the night in two, and the man at the front of the pack collapses to the sand. Before anyone can properly react, two more are felled by a volley of arrows that come seemingly from nowhere._

 _Fighting the urge to panic, the remaining companions charge forward at the battalion of Plegian army men. However, they have already been routed. While Mustafa's men were distracted by the lights and their goal of sneaking past them, the Plegians had laid low in the dark, waiting for their prey to divert south and walk into the middle of their trap. Arrows and swords and magic intermingle to dispatch nearly all of Mustafa's companions in a matter of moments. The former general himself is forced to surrender in short order. His axes falls with a lackluster_ whump _to the sand._

" _Well, well, well, what have we here?" a familiar voice drawls. That explains the flash of light, then. King Gangrel points his Levin sword casually at Mustafa's throat. "A general of the Plegian army, abandoning his post? Skulking about in the dead of night? Truly, a shameful display. I'm disappointed, Mustafa."_

" _Your Highness," Mustafa regards Gangrel as politely as his anger will allow him. "That's nine more lives that didn't need to be lost. Lives of good men, caring men. Men that a nation should be built on. The nation we could have built if you'd only listened to me and seen the light of peace."_

" _Peace, peace, peace, it's all you insects chirp about. Without ever knowing what real peace would cost," Gangrel retorts._

" _And what would that be?"_

" _For as long as there are two people living on this earth, there will not be peace. True peace would only come to this wretched land when there was only one person left living on it. That's peace. You say you want peace, but you don't know what you're asking for. I am content to settle for the peace of the one who wins: subjugation," Gangrel sneers._

" _If that's the world you plan to create, then I have no desire to live in it. I imagine most would agree," Mustafa says._

" _You don't know the first thing about humans, Mustafa. That's why you lost to me, and that's why I'll win. Because I do understand. People aren't just content with subjugation; most crave it. They love being told what to do and where to go. Every tragedy in the world is caused by people that don't understand what people really want. What they're really like. And that's why I'll win." He lowers his sword as the other men in his entourage manacle Mustafa's hands behind his back. "And that's why we're taking you back. First to get a little bit of information out of you regarding the whereabouts of your co-conspirators, then to make a bit of a spectacle out of you. In the meantime, we'll have some propaganda drummed up about you, make sure the public is in a nice froth by the time we announce that we've captured you. By then I won't even need to formally execute you. I'll just release you to the crowd and let them do the work. It'll be a good bit of fun, I imagine, watching a traitor to his motherland receive his just desserts."_

" _The only traitor to Plegia here is you, Gangrel. And I have faith that my countrymen will see that in the end," Mustafa growls._

" _I suppose we'll find out, won't we? In any event, here's a taste of what's coming." Picking Mustafa's axe up off the ground, Gangrel swings it around and hits his captive in the knee with the blunt end, making it buckle in. Mustafa howls in pain and collapses to the ground._

 _Gangrel grins as he stands over Mustafa. "Oh goodness, I didn't mean to hit that hard. Let me fix you up, Mustafa." He unstraps a healing staff from his back and points it at the shattered leg. As the healing magic forces the ex-general's leg back into shape, the man can't help but shout in pain all over again._

" _You're in for a hell of a time, Mustafa," Gangrel says as his men force Mustafa to his feet again. "Get him out of my sight. And make sure these others are really dead before we leave," he orders the soldiers beside him. "I won't allow a single traitor to get away. This country deserves a king who can unite his people under one cause. And I'm going to give it to them."_

* * *

 **A/N: Translator's note: keikaku means plan**

 **So picture this with me. It's the week of Thanksgiving, and I'm on break from classes. I think to myself, "Ah yes, I will definitely use this time to get some writing done. I'll probably have a chapter ready by the end of the week!" And then I do in fact do some writing. But then,**

 **Black Friday arrives,**

 **and my local video game outlet** **has a Nintendo Switch** **on sale. So I**

 **buy**

 **it.**

 **And then I played Breath of the Wild for basically a month straight. And just when that hype was starting to chill, of course SSBU hits as well, and then I had to get gud with Chrom. Also finals and other real life stuff, but mostly Zelda and Chromdaddy. So that's what I've been up to. Anyway, hope this was worth the inordinate wait! It took a lot of reworking (and the erasure of like 1200 words' worth of scene at one point) to make it where I wanted it to be.**

 **As always, I need to thank those who help keep my work ship-shape! Syntaxis is on hiatus, so I hope she is doing well, but having Mixed Valence (and my roommate, who just joined the site under the username NotTheArchitect) look over my work and give it the thumbs-up is always a relief before I release the beast. And now, to mix things up, here is your Mixed Valence out of context quote of the week: "** **Dunno if I'm reading my hasubando well enough but I think he's a single malt Scotch kind of guy."**

 **I'll be leaving the poll regarding characters and cover ideas up for another chapter before making my final tally, as there are three or four strong contenders for the second place position (any guesses on who firmly occupies number one?). I'm still looking for an artist that could make such a cover happen, so if you have referrals I'd love to receive them!**

 **As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**


	28. Ch 28: Local Best Girl Beats Up a Minor

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 28: Local Best Girl Beats Up a Minor  
**

"Ouch," Frederick says through gritted teeth as I fix up his probably slightly fractured arm. This is the third or fourth time he's fallen today, and not the first time he's broken something, so I can tell he's getting really tired of it. The moment the healing is finished, he follows up with "Thank you, Randall," no doubt to reassure me I'm not the one he's angry with.

"No prob." I turn to Robin and Donnel, our de facto engineer and carpenter, respectively. "Looks like we're going to need to tighten him up a little on the turns. Might cost some flexibility, but that's the price we pay. A fall like that will take him out of the fight pretty much every time unless he's got a healer handy. He doesn't have his legs to break his fall properly, and that puts his arms at greater risk. Plus, in the event that his legs do break and he's on his own, he might not notice as he wouldn't feel it."

Donnel replies, "I was thinkin' the same thing. Lemme snatch up that harness, see if I can't add some side supports." He strolls over to Frederick's horse and unfastens the wooden harness he's been building with Robin's instructions and Stahl and Sully's consultation. Despite the rough early stages, I've been really impressed with Donny's ability to adapt Robin's ideas on the fly and account for changes that need to be made with its design. He heads over the short hill to return to the camp, where we keep our maintenance tools.

"Speed has never been the core of Frederick's fighting ability, so if we have to sacrifice some maneuverability, it's not great, but it's certainly better than anything else," Robin adds. "In any case, Frederick, thank you for your work today. We'll take a break while Donnel makes the necessary adjustments, and we can try again tomorrow."

"Right. Thank you all for your continued help," Frederick replies from where he's sitting in the frosty grass. As Robin and I prepare to help him back onto his horse so he can ride back to the wagon, we receive a pleasant surprise.

"Are you guys finally done?" Lissa's voice calls over the hill. Slowly, her bouncing twintails come into view. Behind her, though, is the real surprise. "Come on, Emm. Easy, just a little farther," Lissa says encouragingly as she leads Emmeryn by the hand up to the top of the hill.

"Wow," Robin whispers as the Exalt crests the hill. Emm looks a little worse for wear, as it's a good hundred and fifty yards or so from the medical wagon to here, but she's still on her feet, which is pretty damn impressive as far as I'm concerned.

"Woohoo! Go Emm!" Lissa shouts, taking her sister's hands and jumping a little. "You did so great, sis!" She throws her arms around Emm's waist and hugs her for a long while. At first Emmeryn doesn't seem sure what to do, but after a moment she returns the hug with an unmistakable smile. "We thought we should come see you guys, see how Frederick is getting on!"

We go to join the pair at the top of the hill. At first Emm seems pretty freaked out by Frederick's massive horse, Imperium, but Lissa leads the way by holding one of Emm's hands and petting Imperium's muzzle with her free hand. The horse snorts happily at Lissa's gentle touch, a noise that makes both sisters giggle. Emmeryn tentatively reaches out and joins her sister in stroking his face.

"Milady, you are coming along further and further every day. It does my heart good to see you recovering so rapidly. You are an inspiration for me to redouble my efforts," Frederick says. He turns his head to me. "Randall, I wish to continue my exercises after all. While Donnel works on my harness, I would like to practice riding without it. If there were an emergency on the battlefield and I could not count on my harness, I don't wish to be rendered totally impotent."

"Are you serious?" I ask incredulously. "We've already been at it for hours. And without the support, you're way more likely to reacquaint your face with the dirt."

"That's why I need you around as well. If I should fall, I'll be counting on you to heal my injuries," he replies simply.

"You know I had other things I wanted to do today, right?"

"I am in your debt!" Frederick cries as he whirls Imperium around and rides off before I can stop him.

I sigh and turn to the girls. "That fucker. Well, I guess I know what I'm doing until dinner."

Robin laughs unabashedly. "Hey, at least he's having fun. I think all that falling was getting to him until now."

"That guy wouldn't know fun if it bit him in the ass," I reply, my sullen edge already rapidly dulling. No point getting mad when I'm already irreparably stuck with this.

"No Randy, I think Robin's right. He's making the most out of his situation. Plus, I think recovering alongside Emm is doing him a lot of good. I remember how scary he looked before he learned you and Maribelle saved her," Lissa says. "No doubt in my mind, _that_ guy would still be in the wagon today."

Emmeryn sniffles noticeably with a shiver.

"Anyway, I don't know about you, Lissa, but _I'm_ pretty cold, so I think I'm gonna warm up in the command wagon," Robin says, smirking at me as she starts crunching through the frost back to the campsite. "I'll try and save you a cup of tea, Randall."

I flip her off. Even if it doesn't translate as well here, I'm sure she gets what I mean.

"Yeah, I'd better get Emm back too, Randy. Um… sorry!" Lissa says as she starts leading her sister back down the hill.

"Alright. See you later," I reply, trying for Emm's sake not to sound as irritated as I am. I wave to her as she follows Lissa, and I'm encouraged when she waves back.

I turn back to the other side of the hill, where Frederick has already fallen and has his leg caught in one of his stirrups. Great.

I shiver as a breeze passes through.

* * *

Libra agreed pretty much straight away to show me the ropes at Ward magic. Honestly, I figured he would; he just seems like that kind of guy. He has me meet him by a small campfire he's made near his tent after we stop for the day one evening in Northern Plegia.

"Thanks again for agreeing to give me some tips, Libra. Even if healing is pretty much second nature to me by now, there's still a ton I don't know," I say as we both get out our Ward staves.

"It's my pleasure, I assure you," Libra replies. "It was always my dream to be a teacher, you know."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes. When this war is over, I intend to found an orphanage for those left without parents or guardians as a result of the violence. I hope I can show the youth of our land the love, guidance, and instruction that they may otherwise lack." He gets this sort of misty look in his eyes. "When I think about the innocent youth left with nothing as a result of this fighting, it just about brings me to tears. Forgive me," he says, blinking heavily and patting his cheeks to calm down.

"You don't have to apologize! I totally get it! I think your dream is fantastic. Honestly, I don't really know what I have in mind for after the war." I realize as I say this how true it actually is. There's going to be a whole two year space between this conflict and the next one. What the hell am I going to do with myself? "Having a goal in mind is awesome. I envy that."

"Well, if you wanted… no, I oughtn't ask that," Libra stops himself.

"What is it?" I press him.

"It's just, if you truly have no other plan for what to do with yourself, I'm sure I will be in need of all the help I can get. If you would like to join me, I would be happy to have you along," he says earnestly, leaning forward as he speaks. His eyes are just about sparkling in the firelight. This is a side of him I'm not used to.

"Oh. Uh… wow. I have to say I'm surprised you want me on board. You barely know me, after all," I stammer.

"I may not have known you for long, but I can tell we have a great deal in common, Randall. And of course, you needn't give me an answer right away. It's just something to keep in mind down the line, I suppose," he replies.

I take a breath. I was not expecting this staff lesson to turn into a job offer. "Alrighty, cool. I guess I should say thanks for believing in me that much."

"Thank you for considering it," Libra says. He holds up his staff. "Now, shall we begin?"

"Oh, yeah." I get my staff ready as well.

"Now, there are several ways to create a successful Ward, depending on what one wishes to accomplish. An armor Ward, as I like to call them, wraps around a person and renders them much less susceptible to magical damage, while a wall Ward stretches across an entire group but only guards in one direction. The latter is much more taxing on a user, so it should not be used in drawn-out battles," he explains, illustrating with his hands the difference between clothing someone in a Ward and making a Ward sheet. "We saw this tactic used in the battle at Lake Medeus. It's no wonder that healer went down in one shot when you got to him. He must have been quite exhausted by then. I think they anticipated a quick resolution to the battle with that pincer tactic."

"Good to know. So what's my focus as I create a Ward?" I ask.

"Somehow, I suspect this will be the easy part for you. Where a healing staff is usually motivated by compassion and caring, a Ward staff is fueled by the desire to protect. The user must have a clear sense of danger, as well as the intention to act as a shield from that danger. It's important to keep in mind, too, that every magical attack that hits your Ward will tax your spiritual energy. Certainly preferable to your ally coming to harm, but in other words, you can't hold up even an armor Ward for terribly long if the threat is great," Libra says.

"So in other words, that healer at Lake Medeus was actually really good at his job?" I ask.

Libra nods. "In a sense. In Plegia, where healers are rare, their talents can get them a quite handsome salary in the Plegian military. It pushes Plegian healers to improve their endurance, since they're usually the sole healer in their detachments. They might not be the most effective healers, but they can usually keep it up for a great deal longer than the average Ylissean."

"You're pretty well-informed on this stuff," I comment.

"I should hope so. I've studied the art of healing and different philosophies on the subject for just about my entire adult life, after all. In any case, we should begin. Now since I don't want to waste magical resources to generate attacks for you to defend against, for now the campfire itself should work just fine."

"I'm sorry, what? The campfire?"

"Oh yes. Fire is fire, after all, whether generated from a rune or from a burning tree. For that reason, the campfire will serve as a low-risk test of your ability to hold up an armor Ward." He slips off his outer robes, leaving only his black long-sleeved undershirt and white pants. "I am going to stand in the bonfire while you hold up your Ward, and if I don't get burned, you will have succeeded. Agreeable?"

"Why does learning any kind of magic always involve my teachers getting thrashed to shit?" I ask.

"Because learning is pain. As is teaching, I suppose. You can never get something for nothing. And someday, when you're the one teaching someone else to use a staff, I expect you'll understand what I mean," Libra says simply. "Now, cast the Ward, if you'd please."

Well, it's not difficult to picture what I want. If he's going to step into that fire, then I want to keep him from getting burned. And I've been burnt at enough Scout campouts too have a pretty good idea of what danger I'm protecting him from. Simple enough. I raise the staff and will its magic to encircle Libra. Even though I couldn't usually see Wards when it was someone else casting them, I'm surprised to find that I can very plainly see the bright blue light streaming from the orb and covering Libra like water. That's trippy.

"I think it's ready," I half-ask.

"Let's see." Libra strides confidently on top of the fire.

Sure enough, I start to feel the effects of the fire. While the Ward was pretty easy to keep up before, now I can feel it slowly draining me of my strength. It's not like I'm feeling the heat of the fire myself, but more like the Ward magic is transforming the damage that the fire would cause into exertion being taken out on me. When he moves to the middle of the fire (totally messing up the little tipi of wood that he had structured, by the way), the drain increases in intensity, and after a good thirty seconds or so I'm definitely feeling it. Even so, his clothes aren't catching fire, and it doesn't look like he's in any pain. Libra was right: this does seem to come naturally to me.

Eventually, he steps out of the fire with a satisfied 'hmph,' and I lower the Ward. The light slides down his body fluidly and dissipates into the chilly night air. I'm breathing a little heavily, but overall feel pretty much alright.

"As expected. Very well done, Randall. Let's stop for today. It may not feel like we've done much, but you accomplished a good deal and I don't want to tax the staff too much," Libra says, giving me a pat on the shoulder. "I didn't doubt for a moment Wards would come easily for you. Of course, more practice will be necessary before I can confidently say you're ready to use it effectively in combat. However, it should be quite soon, because unlike with, say, Rescue magic or," he coughs, "dark magic, there is no direct negative consequence if you underperform or lose control. It will just mean that you'll have more healing to do if your allies get hurt because of a thin Ward. It's better in your hands than it would be gathering dust in the medical supply wagon. And of course, you'll get better with time at using it."

That makes me smile. A low-stakes magic that I can use without feeling like I'm holding a moody bomb. Robin was right the other day; I really have been needing something like this.

"Thanks again for helping me, Libra," I say. "But why were you so sure I'd be good at this?"

"To be honest, you're at a stage where real instruction isn't usually necessary. As you get better with staff magic in general, more and more types of it will become easy to understand and pick up quickly. And if you don't mind my saying so, I think we are probably quite similar in spirit. I may have been projecting a bit, but I had faith that you would understand Wards as easily as I did when I first picked up a Ward staff. Call it a hunch, I suppose," he says.

Suddenly, a voice calls from behind me, "Randall! There you are! I've been looking for you for ages. What are you doing?" Tharja punctuates her irritated question with a sneeze. I guess she's never been in weather this cold before.

"I'm learning how to use Ward staves, why?" I reply.

"Because I've been waiting on you to start our dark magic practice for today, obviously," she growls.

"Oh, right. Hang on, I thought we were taking a break on that for a while."

"We have been. For almost a week now. But Robin told me to make sure you're learning consistently, and taking this long of a break won't do. So we have to get back to it." She sneezes again. "Tomorrow, we have to get back to it. The sun's already going down, and I don't want to think about how much colder it can get at night, and how that will feel with decayed skin."

"Yeah, again, it's really weird that no one knows a way to practice magic that doesn't tear people apart."

Libra speaks up, "I'm afraid you're just unlucky in that regard. Anima magic can be practiced with inanimate dummies with no problem. But Tharja is correct that dark magic's success cannot really be measured without animate flesh to practice on."

"Couldn't I, like, practice on a large steak or something?" I ask.

Libra shrugs. "You probably could, but it would be a waste of food. At least we can heal people. You can't heal a steak once it's decayed."

Tharja scowls. "You sure know more about dark magic than I'd expect for a Naga priest."

Libra smiles good-naturedly in response. "When you've healed as many dark magic injuries as I have, you learn a thing or two. Oh, I almost forgot. Randall, I still have your Flux tome." He ducks into his tent for a moment and emerges with the tome, holding it sort of at arm's length. "My apologies for the delay in getting it back to you."

I take it and stow it in my robes. "Thanks. Honestly, I'd kinda forgotten you had it."

"You didn't even know where your tome was?" Tharja asks. "I don't even know why I'm bothering teaching you."

"Oh yes, that reminds me, Tharja," Libra says. "I wanted to ask if you would be alright with me sitting in and observing Randall's training tomorrow."

"Why would you want to do that?" she asks in an annoyed monotone.

"I'm curious about how Plegians teach dark magic. I've seen formally trained mages in the field before, of course, but I've never seen the process of training them. I'm curious how it works."

"As long as you stay quiet and stay out of my way, I guess there isn't a problem," she replies eventually.

He turns to me. "Do you have any objection, Randall?"

"Uh, no, of course not. Go for it," I say. I wonder if his being there will change my mental state or affect my training somehow. If anything, though, I'd say training with him has been a damn sight nicer than with Tharja.

She sneezes again. "Fine. I'm going back to my tent to try and warm up. I will see you tomorrow, Randall, so don't try and back out. You've been babied plenty." She skulks off.

"Yeah, night Tharja," I say exasperatedly.

"So, that's your dark magic teacher?" Libra asks, unable to hide the sarcastic edge in his question.

I shrug. "She's as good as we've got. Miriel has at best a theoretical grasp on it, Ricken can't even use it, and Robin, whether she can use dark magic or not, hasn't ever tried, so she's behind me in that regard. It's been, I'll say less than pleasant, but it's better than trying to go it alone I guess."

"I'm curious to see what her method is like. I'll be looking forward to seeing that tomorrow," Libra replies.

"Trust me, it's nothing pretty."

* * *

 _The Traveler sighs. "And here there was such nice anger on the wind for a while. Anger's the stuff of change, you know, Valli. But now everyone's getting calmed down as they head north. Retreating away from the interesting stuff and, ugh, regrouping. Boring, boring, boring. And it takes foreeeever."_

" _My lord, I must admit I am at a loss. It seems to me you know exactly where the Shepherds are and even what they are doing. Why haven't you destroyed them?" Validar asks._

 _The Traveler is silent for a long moment. "Validar," they say in a dangerously low tone, "have you been listening to a SINGLE thing I've been saying?"_

" _M-my lord, I do try, but you're quite difficult to understand at times, if I am being honest," Validar stammers._

" _No, I'm not," the Traveler says sharply. "In fact, it's the EASIEST thing I can think of to understand. Some things in this world are interesting, and some things are boring. That's all that matters. I. Like. Interesting things. And I hate boring ones. What's difficult about that?"_

" _It's just, I don't understand what the goal of our planning is anymore, my lo–"_

" _Goal? Are you LISTENING to yourself? Validar, if I had a concrete goal, and then I met it, that would be IT. I'd have to find a new goal, and then another one, and so on. But you absolute brainlets in the Grimleal had it in your minds that I would want to, what, destroy the world? How BORING would it be if there were literally NOTHING? No battles to watch, no lives to tamper with, no relationships to watch build up and break down, nothing. Why on earth would an eternal, ageless being want that? You incredible moron."_

" _I-I beg your forgiveness, my lord." Validar is downright shaking in fear and shame._

" _So here's how it works, Valli. In the world I'm building, there's ONE sin: to be boring, dull, or static, or predictable. To be boring is to be a waste. Got it?"_

 _Validar takes a deep breath. "I am doing my best to understand, my lord. It's just that this is such a departure from all the Grimleal scriptu–"_

" _You know what, Validar? Get over here. Right in front of me," the Traveler commands suddenly._

" _Yes, my lord." Validar stands dutifully before his master. Being told what to do is much easier than being told what to think._

" _Hands and knees, right now, on the floor."_

" _Yes, my lord." Validar prostrates himself on the ground without hesitation._

" _Now I am going to use my magic and blast your head off. You ready?" the Traveler says, gathering some magic in their fingers._

" _M-my lord?"_

" _You gonna question me, Validar? Gonna disobey a direct order from me? I know I've got a bad habit of speaking cryptically sometimes, but I'd like to think I'm getting better lately. Is my order confusing to you? Are you lost somewhere?"_

" _N-no my lord, it's just that I don't under–"_

" _You don't have to understand, Validar. You're my servant, right? You'll do what I say, when I say, without question."_

 _Validar stares at the ground in front of the Traveler's feet. "Of course. I hear and obey, my lord."_

" _On the count of three. Ready?"_

" _Y-yes, my lord."_

" _One." The magic crackles loudly. "Two." The sound gets closer to Validar's head. "Three."_

 _An incredibly loud blast echoes in Validar's ears as the ground right in front of his head is blasted deeply, creating a twelve-inch-diameter crater in the stone. While Validar felt some of his hair get caught in the blast, he is totally unharmed._

" _...My lord?" he half-whispers as the ringing in his ears starts to subside._

 _After a few seconds, the Traveler speaks. "For FUCK'S sake, Validar. You really weren't paying attention at all. What could be more boring than just laying down your life because your master, eh, felt like killing you? There wasn't a reason, wasn't a logic to it, just wanted to maybe kill you. And you ROLLED with it. Why?"_

" _I, um, it's not my place to question the machinations of the divine, is–"_

" _It is ABSOLUTELY your place to question something like that. You didn't even flinch. I sensed not a single iota of intent to move out of the way. You were literally just going to sit there and let me kill you. Validar, I have some bad medical news for you. You are terminally boring."_

" _M-my lord, I apologize. If I had known that it was your wish that I would disobey–"_

" _Then it wouldn't have been disobeying, you vacuous moron. I wanted to see if you would do something, ANYTHING, that wouldn't either irritate me or bore me to tears. You failed utterly, and even now it seems like you don't get it."_

 _Validar is speechless. "I… I…"_

 _Their tone changes. It is no longer angry or fiery, but cold and distant. "You committed the great sin, Validar. And your punishment will be that this world will forget you. I have already washed my hands of you as of this moment." The Traveler stands up straight and starts walking away._

 _Listening outside the chamber, her head pressed up against the door, Aversa shrinks back as she hears footsteps approaching._

" _My lord, please don't abandon your servant. I may not be as… entertaining as you should like, but perhaps I could learn to–"_

" _If you were ever going to learn it, it wouldn't be from me. Now go take a bath, you smell disgusting. And have a nice life." The Traveler opens the door to Validar's chamber and slams it shut behind them._

 _And so Validar, denied the one thing that has given his life purpose until now, remains sitting on the stone floor, staring at the crater left behind by the spell that sealed his abandonment._

 _Aversa sits outside, wondering whether she should or even wants to come in to comfort him._

* * *

"Come on! Your spells are incredibly weak today! Where's that fire in your eyes that we saw at Lake Medeus?" Tharja chastises.

"Hopefully it stays there, actually," I shoot back. "I'm not a fan of the idea of losing my grip like that again." I try not to look at Libra, remembering with shame that he had to essentially confiscate my tome to get me to regain control.

"You haven't learned to _embrace_ these emotions, and that's why they stay foreign to you. Until you let your primal side in, dark magic will always feel like a stranger to you," she replies.

"You know that's kind of the opposite of what I want, right?" I ask.

"No, it's not. You want to learn dark magic. This is how it's done. Unless you've been wasting my time until now, this is exactly what you want. Guidance for how to make that tome kill people when you need it to." She points at the Flux tome sitting idly in my hands.

"Is there no way to do that without losing my grip on my emotions?"

"For the purposes of maximizing your magical ability, no, there isn't."

For the first time since we started, Libra speaks up. "You know, I hate to interrupt, but that's not exactly true."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"What are you going on about?" Tharja asks, much more unkindly.

"There is a means by which you can make effective use of dark magic tomes without succumbing to your base instincts. It's not easy, of course, but it can be done with patience and diligence," Libra says.

"Well hell, if that's true, I want that one!" I reply.

"What would you know about this anyway, priest?" Tharja demands.

"To tell you the truth, I was not completely honest with you yesterday when I said I was familiar with dark magic because I've healed its injuries so many times. That is true, but my familiarity with the subject comes from more direct experience. You see, I am a dark mage myself, and I was at one time a very well practiced one."

That's right! I remember now, Libra can reclass to a dark mage or sorcerer as well. So that's real-life-canon after all, then.

"Is that so? And pray tell, how does this method of your work?" Tharja asks condescendingly.

"You see, in spending as much time with dark magic tomes as I have, I've learned the way that they respond to their users. It's easy to think that they respond to emotion, but that isn't precisely correct. They respond to the _physiological_ markers of emotion."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tharja asks.

"When you grow angry, for example, your heart rate increases. Breathing becomes heavier, people tend to sweat more, things like that. The tome is not looking to see if you are angry. It is reading whether your _body_ is communicating anger."

"I think I'm starting to understand," I say. "So if you can trick a tome into thinking you're, say, envious or jealous, you can use a Nosferatu tome whether or not you really feel it?"

"Exactly. However, it sounds easy when you word it like that, but in truth it is extremely difficult. Dark magic tomes are meticulous devices, and they read the body very well. It takes significant focus, control, and self-awareness to feign such emotions competently."

"Can you show me how it's done?" I ask.

"I can do my best. However, much of your progress will be dependent on what makes your body uniquely tick. I will not be able to help with such specific matters; I will merely be able to provide guidance," Libra replies.

"Awesome. That's more than I had hoped for." If this is really a valid option, this could be the answer to all my worries. I don't care how hard he says it will be, I want to dive into this right away.

"Well where does that leave this?" Tharja asks, gesturing to the area around her. "Are you just dropping my tutelage just like that?"

Before I can say anything (like "hell yes" for example), Libra speaks up. "Of course not, Tharja, and I hope you can forgive me if I gave the impression that what you are teaching is unimportant. You have done much to help him get in touch with some of these more aggressive emotions, which will be necessary in the future if he is to understand them sufficiently enough to emulate them. I am merely providing a method by which the things he learns from you can be applied without taxing his mental or spiritual health."

"Are you questioning the quality of my mental or spiritual health, priest?" Tharja asks.

"Yes," Libra replies.

A beat of silence.

"That's fair. I don't like sharing a student with some Naga-loving treehugger, but like I said before, as long as you stay out of my way, I don't care what you do," Tharja says.

"In that case, we will begin my supplementary lessons on meditation and emotional control quite soon, Randall. But first, I want to spend some time observing your training as it is, so that I can get a better idea of you and your emotional profile before we start picking apart its physiology. Assuming you are still willing to learn, of course," Libra says, turning to me.

"Oh, I'm absolutely on board. This is a massive load off my mind, Libra. You have no idea," I say gratefully.

"I think I may have some idea, actually," Libra replies.

* * *

We reach the Feroxi border without any further violence, which is a relief on many levels. Of course, we don't want to fight anyone we don't have to, but doubly so when it's this goddamn cold out.

By the way, it really is cold out. I had taken for granted that the last time I was in Ferox it was late summer, so it was actually the Feroxi warm season when I was freezing my ass off on the way down to Golgotha. I am no longer taking that for granted. Snow piles up on the roads in ways that I can barely imagine, pampered 21st century commuter that I was. Progress north slows to an unbearable crawl, leading a lot of the Shepherds to question why we aren't just diverting east and taking the fastest possible route back to Ylisse. I'm among those Shepherds.

"Because we aren't the only force in this alliance, and we are by far the smaller one. I don't know if this is clear to everybody, but between Ylisse and Ferox there is a definite disbalance of power, tipped very heavily in Ferox's favor. When Basilio or especially Flavia asks us to do anything, we almost always aren't in a position to refuse them. We're just lucky they've been nice about it so far. Both of the khans want to regroup in Ný Von, and that's what we're doing," Robin explains to me one day after I voice our complaints on behalf of the Shepherds ("Robin'll listen to you way more than she'll listen to us!" Vaike said, joined with vehement nodding from Sumia, Gaius, Stahl, and Nowi).

"Are we still going to go to Ylisstol first after we regroup?" I ask.

"I mean, 'first' is a strong word. I'm sure we'll meet plenty of resistance along the way. But it'll definitely be our top priority once the khans are satisfied that the border is secure." Robin rubs her face idly. She looks pretty beat, I notice now, with dark eyes and a lethargically sunken mouth.

"Hey, you alright? You seem a little out of it," I say.

She sighs. "Yeah, I'm good. I'm just thinking about a lot lately, plus my dreams keep getting really weird."

Well, that's not an unfamiliar sentiment. "Weird dreams?" I ask.

"It's nothing to worry about. Just been really realistic and kinda unnerving is all."

"Unnerving how?"

"Like they're always about the same guy. And I swear he seems familiar, but I can't place it. Anyway, he's always stressed and always on edge, but it was nothing compared to last night. He was… I dunno, I don't really feel like thinking about it," she says with a sigh.

I wonder if that's about Validar. Should I say something? Probably not. I don't think I've ever even met the guy, now that I think about it. "Alright. Well, try and get as much sleep as you can while we're safe in Ferox. I think we've both still got a lot of rest to catch up on," I reply.

"Sounds nice. Maybe I could actually do it for once. We're not planning any more battles until the khans have, ugh, 'regrouped' to their satisfaction. In truth, I agree with the Shepherds. It would make much more sense to divert east now and strike while the iron's hot. But now both sides will be clashing at their full strength, and I'm afraid it's going to mean a lot more bloodshed. I guess the khans are at liberty to do with their military as they please, but it's going to make the task of keeping every Shepherd safe a lot tougher for you and me."

"Well hell, Robin. We already invaded the capital of Plegia and lived to tell the tale, didn't we? I'd say we've endured worse odds than this before," I say in an attempt to encourage her. "It wasn't very fun to have all those runs in a row, but we proved we can beat an unwinnable situation."

"Gods. Eight runs. I never want to have to do that again," Robin sighs.

"Hopefully we won't have to. The Shepherds are getting stronger all the time, and you and I are getting better at directing them. We just gotta keep our momentum going. Which means the biggest thing is probably just keeping our heads on straight."

"Easier said than done, I don't doubt," she replies.

"No kidding."

A moment of preemptively tired silence passes.

"Oh yeah! Speaking of keeping our sanity, I meant to tell you! Libra says he's got a method of using dark magic that involves tricking the tomes into thinking you're feeling those negative emotions without actually having to mean it. We're going to start practicing it soon. He's been observing my sessions with Tharja since before we crossed the border, so he says he's got a good idea of how my emotions come out."

Her eyes, though still weary, light up with joy. "Really? That's great! Honestly, I could hardly be more pleased, Randall. I do want you to get stronger to the greatest possible extent, but I hated the idea of you having to dive deep into the worst of human emotion to do it. That's one less thing for me to lose sleep over if it works."

"You've been losing sleep worrying about me?" I ask, half-teasingly and half-earnestly. I don't like the idea of someone else worrying too much over me. I already had plenty of that with Maribelle.

"Well, not _just_ you. Don't get too excited there," she replies smugly. "But yeah. It wasn't sitting well with me that we might have to lose the Randall that we've come to know and mostly tolerate just to make a better asset out of you. If there's another method, I want you pursuing it."

"You and me both, Robin. I'll let you know how it goes."

* * *

 _Aventine, despite the comfortable furnishings of his room and the more pleasant climate of Ylisse, finds he can't get to sleep. His mind constantly races with the myriad possibilities that could come about at this point, and few of them look good. It's all gone so wrong. But even so, not all hope is lost just yet. If Mustafa could just find a way to escape the country, and the Shepherds could gain the upper hand or at least even the odds somehow, their plan could get its momentum back._

 _He isn't sure which sounds more unlikely._

 _Aventine gives up on sleep for now and rises from his bed, shuffling out into the hallway and into a leisure room a few doors down. Duke Osprey really is too wealthy for his own good, he thinks._

 _His breath catches in surprise when he sees a person sitting in a chair near the back corner of the room. However, he's relieved to see it's only Mustafa's wife Octavia._

" _You too, Lord Aventine?" Octavia asks, her voice raw and strained. "I only got Mikkel to sleep about twenty minutes ago. Don't tell me I need to put you to bed as well."_

 _Aventine laughs politely. "No, there's no need for that. How is the boy? I haven't had much opportunity to look in after him, what with all the adjustments I've needed to make with the duke." He sits on an ornate sofa opposite her._

" _He's too smart," she says with a faint, sad smile. "He understands what's going on more than I would like. When I told him Mustafa was going to meet us here, I think he heard the lie in my voice. I heard him ask Captain Phila if he was ever going to see his papa again. She gave a soldier's answer, as if that's any surprise, saying, 'I know your father will do his duty, no matter the cost. He will do everything he can to see you again, but keeping you and your mother and your country safe comes first.' I'll never forget what he said next." She takes a breath to steady herself. "He said, 'Papa's going to die, isn't he? Please don't lie.' What else could Phila say? She said, 'We will be very fortunate if he doesn't.'"_

" _Another generation of children, brought up in an age of war and tragedy. This is what we wanted to avoid," Aventine says somberly, bowing his head slightly. "And leave it to Phila not to blunt the impact much."_

" _Better that than if he had asked Henry, I suppose," Octavia replies with a bitter chuckle. "I had hoped to bring my boy up in a world without war. I suppose I wanted to feed him that fantasy a little longer. But he's too sharp to fall for it. Takes after his father too much."_

" _Octavia…" Aventine says, unsure what words could possibly bring this woman comfort in a situation like this._

" _What are we going to do now, Aventine? If Gangrel crushes the Ylisseans and gains control over both countries, what's our plan? We don't have many friends in Ferox, and even fewer resources at our disposal. Did you and my husband account for something like this?" She looks at him a little desperately, her eyes wide. He can barely meet her gaze._

" _Admittedly, we never planned for something this dramatic. The sacrifice of Exalt Emmeryn has many implications, most of which we can't know yet. Report after report comes in, each filled only with rumors and conjecture, and much of it seems conflicting. Some say the Exalt is dead, while others insist she's alive. Some suggest that her sacrifice has taken the fire out of the Plegian military's spirit, where others believe little has changed. Exalt Emmeryn certainly stirred things up with that daring move of hers, no matter what the ultimate result is. We will just have to wait and see where the pieces fall, I fear."_

" _And if the worst should happen? If Gangrel takes total hegemony?"_

 _Aventine closes his eyes for a moment, reminiscing. "When Mustafa and I first formed our plan, it was only us two against the entirety of the Plegian and Ylissean governments. We have been a much smaller, more subversive group than this before, and if need be, perhaps we may be forced to become so again."_

" _What if Mustafa is captured? What if he is made to give up the names of our allies? Their locations?" Her tone rises with each proceeding question._

" _I don't like to think on it, but the Mustafa I know would go to his grave in a thousand pieces before he would give up those to whom he has sworn loyalty. There are many things to be concerned about, but I believe that is not one of them," Aventine replies in a more soothing tone._

 _Octavia takes a measured breath through her nose to calm herself. "You're right, Aventine. I can at least trust that my husband would never give up his family. I'm sorry for bothering you with this when I'm sure there's already so much on your mind."_

 _Aventine manages a smile. "There's no need to apologize. To be honest, I am merely hanging on by a thread myself, I feel. I never imagined we would be forced to do this without him, even for a while. Things do look bleak, even to me."_

" _Is there no hope for them to turn it around? The Shepherds, I mean. Even if Mustafa manages to make his way to us, can we provide enough aid to balance this conflict? The sides seem totally mismatched, but for Ferox's strength backing them. And even then, if the Ylissean-Feroxi alliance prevails, how do we know the Feroxi won't just annex Ylisse and become our new greatest enemy?"_

" _You're right to worry about that as well. There is little that looks as though it is going in Ylisse's favor at the moment. They are counting on the goodwill of their new allies too much, I think. Unless the Shepherds are mind readers and know for sure that they will not be betrayed…" He stops himself. There was one among the Shepherds who seemed to know too much. Things he shouldn't know. "Anyway, I hope their advisors are using reliable sources. Otherwise we might see the rise of a new threat in the same shape as the old."_

" _Reliable sources, hm? Do we have anyone in the Shepherds?"_

 _Aventine shakes his head. "It's always been such a small, tight-knit group. Trying to win any of them over has always seemed a fool's errand, devoted as they all are to Prince Chrom. Lately though, they've been recruiting at a high rate, so it's possible we could get our foot in the door somehow. Perhaps Captain Phila might have an idea on that front."_

" _I hope so. I want to feel as though we're doing something, making progress somehow. We've been stymied for so long in the wake of Gangrel's mad warmongering…" Octavia replies._

" _Sometimes it's difficult to believe that when we started, the Exalt and the king were equally threatening presences. Emmeryn was certainly an unexpected change of pace. She actually believed in peace, and even as a child was so determined to make it happen. That was why I couldn't follow through with our plan back then." Aventine's eyes grow distant, lost in memories and regrets and what-ifs._

" _None of us begrudged you your moment of compassion back then, nor do we now. Surely you know that, Aventine," Octavia says kindly, reaching over and gently patting his hand to bring him back to earth._

" _I know… I know. For an old man like me, it's easy to get caught up in the past. I wonder what could have been just as much as what could still be, I find." As Octavia looks at him now, the toll that the years of the stress of quiet rebellion has taken on Aventine appears more obvious. She wonders how many sleepless nights like this he has endured over the years. She decides to join him for this one, though she feels she makes a poor substitute for all that he's lost._

* * *

"Ah, excellent, you're here, Randall," Cordelia says as I trudge through the snow to the small clearing where she and Donnel are, by the looks of it, impaling each other for fun. "I was just going to use some of this vulnerary, but now we can save it."

"Chrom told me you guys were going to need a healer when he saw you leaving camp. I can see he wasn't kidding," I say, taking in the sight of the bloodstained snow surrounding Donnel, who is currently sitting on the ground, nursing a sliced arm. Various other spare lances, some wood-tipped and some 'live,' are kinda strewn about, suggesting they've already been at this for a little while.

"C-Chrom did?" Cordelia asks, reddening beyond what the wind and cold already have done.

As I get my staff ready to patch Donny up, I say, "Yeah. His exact words were 'I've seen what happens when Cordelia gets serious about training. You'll want at least one fresh staff on hand.'" I smirk inwardly as Cordelia squirms in embarrassment.

"Well, I always do my best possible work! I don't see anything wrong with that!" she protests, fists locked at her sides.

I raise the palm of my free hand in a 'don't shoot the messenger' gesture. "Hey, I agree. And bonus, you're keeping me in practice too." With that, Donnel is put together again.

"Thanks a bundle, Randall," Donny says as he gets to his feet. "And I agree too! It may be tougher than week-and-a-half-old bread to train with ya, Cordelia, but I've already learned so much!" he adds encouragingly.

She smiles gratefully, basking for a moment in the praise of her student. "In truth, the reason I push you so hard is because you've always taken it in stride. I'm amazed at how quickly you've come into your own, Donnel."

Ladies and gentlemen: Aptitude.

Now it's Donnel's turn to redden. "Aw, that's awful kind off you to say, but I'd be nowhere without you." Quite the mutual admiration society they've got going here.

"My my, aren't the sparks flying?" I ask with an innocent grin.

Cordelia glares at me embarrassedly. "Only if you mean the sparks of metal on metal, Randall." She turns to her student sharply. "Donnel, if you're feeling well, let's get right back to it."

"Right!" Donny replies dutifully, readying his lance on command. Seems like he's used to her temperament.

She's right, by the way: Donnel has improved a great deal in a short time. As they get back to sparring, it's evident that Cordelia is the better fighter, but not by much. Though Cordelia has trained relentlessly for probably at least a decade to get to this level, Donnel seems to be close to catching up after only a few months of instruction. He parries most of her jabs with ease and is quick to attempt counterattacks. She in turn deftly ducks and sidesteps most of his attacks, but the strain on her face is evident. Chrom's prediction proves true as well; I frequently need to step in and close up minor slices and gashes so that they can continue safely.

After a couple minutes, Cordelia has Donnel at bladepoint again, but she's breathing heavily and, despite the cold, has definitely broken a sweat. She's won, but she definitely had to earn it. The next three sessions go similarly, with Donnel losing not due to exhaustion but simply being outmaneuvered at critical moments. Each time, it seems like Cordelia is only winning by a thread.

As she lowers her blade after their last session, Donnel lets out a whoop of joy as I heal up his bruises. "Hoo boy, Cordelia. I almost thought I had ya a couple times, but every time I thought I had it in the bag, _whoop_ , ya dodged outta the way, just like that! I gotta learn how to do that!"

Cordelia, meanwhile, appears to be in a less jovial mood. She's still catching her breath as she replies, "On the contrary, Donnel, I'm afraid I'm going to run out of things to teach you soon. You really did come very close a few times to winning. And," she pauses to take a couple full breaths, "as you can see, you wore me out pretty thoroughly. I might spend a great deal of time practicing, but it's clear I don't have the endurance that you do."

"Aw, you're too nice, Cordelia," Donnel says with a smile. "I'm sure there's plenty more for ya to show me. You're just bein' modest."

"We'll see. In any case, let's call it a day for now, Donnel. Thank you as always for your hard work," Cordelia says, starting to gather her lances and other materials off the ground.

"Can I help you carry your stuff?" Donnel asks.

She waves a hand dismissively. "No, no, it's fine. You've earned a proper rest."

He hesitates for a moment, then shrugs. "Alrighty. Thanks boss! You're the best!" He jogs off, seemingly just as unfatigued as he was when I arrived. God damn, that kid is scary.

As Donny leaves, I don't waste any more time healing the few bruises Cordelia earned in their sparring. "Kid's a one-man army, huh?" I remark nonchalantly.

She snatches up another lance off the ground as if it had offended her. "Yes, he certainly is."

I raise a brow. "Something wrong?"

"No, of course not," she snaps as she picks up the lance Donnel was using. "He's coming along remarkably well. I'm glad to have the chance to teach such an adept student."

I think I get it. "Cordelia, are you jealous of him?" I ask as I start gathering up the healing supplies she had set aside in case of an emergency. Always prepared, huh?

"Jealous? Why should I be? We're allies, after all. And for that matter, I'm his teacher. What does a teacher need to be jealous of her student for?"

I take on a more frank tone. "You know why. He's not gonna be your student for much longer, is he? He's gonna get to the point where there'll be nothing about combat that you can teach him that he won't be able to do at least as well as you already."

"That's nothing to be jealous about, though. He and I share a goal of protecting our friends. I want him to be as good a soldier as he can possibly be, regardless of if that means he will surpass me." She finds it difficult to meet my eye.

"Sure, we all want that. But it's okay to be a little pissed off that he just _gets_ this stuff, you know? He joined the Shepherds, what, a few months ago? Barely after I did. And he's already one of our best ground troops by far. Where you've been working since forever to get where you are, and it seems like he's taking a shortcut."

She bends over to pick up the last lance, only to slip and drop the bundle already in her hands. She allows herself to fall with a snowy _whump_ onto her knees. "I just don't get how he does it! The techniques that took weeks, even months of work for me to master, and he'll get them in an afternoon or two! It's superhuman!" she finally exclaims. I walk over to her and start helping assemble the fallen lances.

"And you can't even really get mad, cuz he's such a good kid, so it's not like he's arrogant or anything about it," I add, trying to encourage her to let off some of the steam she's clearly been building up.

"Exactly! He's so nice, and humble, and he works so hard, and aside from his sometimes crude mannerisms, there's not a lot to critique. He's not just a model student; he's even more of a model student than I was! I mean, um…" she falters, embarrassed to have talked herself up that way. "Not that I–"

"Okay, let's be real. You were a model student. No need to be modest with me, I can already tell that's how it must've been," I interrupt.

"W-well… yeah, that's pretty much true," she admits. Finally, I can hear a small smile behind her words. "But still! He might be young yet, but he'll be the best warrior in Ylisse in less than a year at this rate!"

"Maybe. But if he ever gets there, it'll be because he had a teacher like you to pick him up off the ground. He might learn quickly, but that doesn't mean anything if there's no one to teach him. Of course he works hard, but you can allow yourself to take some credit for his successes too," I say as we start walking back to the weapon supply wagon to drop off the lances.

"I guess so. And that's what he's always saying, but I guess… I don't know, from him, it just sounded like he was just being overly modest. More of his model student behavior," she replies. "And thank you. You didn't have to stay behind just to patch up my wounded pride on top of my bruises."

"I'd argue it's all part and parcel, really. Doesn't matter if someone's physically healthy if they've got a lot of shit going on up here, right?" I point to my temple. "My job is making sure people are okay, that's all. So, are you okay?"

"I think I'm… better. I'll say better for now. It's not easy to watch my years of work get reduced down to a few months by someone younger than me, but that's just how it will be, and I'll need to get over it," she says. We arrive at the wagon and stow the lances in their respective crates.

"And hell, it's not like you're not improving as well. As long as you're better than you were yesterday, that's already good enough in my book," I say as we hop out of the wagon.

"I'd modify that to 'markedly better,' but I understand your point, Randall." She runs a hand through her hair. Her pretty, bright red hair that contrasts sharply with the white and green of this snowy forest path. My stomach leaps a little. I just realized I've been alone this whole time with Cordelia, essentially acting as equal parts confidant and cheerleader. Are we that good of friends already? I guess we did mutually save each other's lives in the past couple months. Even so, it's pretty exciting to have my unironic waifu consider me her friend.

I shake my head a little. Get a grip there, boyo. Last thing you need is another Maribelle incident.

"Well, I'm cold as hell, so I'm gonna see when soup's on and then sit by the fire for a while. What's on your plate for the night now?" I say, trying to distract myself a bit and maybe excuse myself so I can get my head on right.

"Hm… now that I think about it, there isn't really much of anything left for me to do today. If you don't mind, I'll accompany you. Food and fire sounds nice right now," Cordelia says with a million dollar smile.

"Of course! I'd be happy to spend more time with you and hopefully get to know you better!" is what I want to say.

"Uhh, sure," is what I manage, nearly choking on my tongue.

Help me.

* * *

Alright, it's cool. You're good. Just focus on the stew for now. Don't overthink things like you are literally right now as you say this to yourself. Just act the way you were before.

"So Randall, you said you were a wandering traveler before you joined the Shepherds, right? Do you have any experience with northern winters like this?" Cordelia asks between bites.

God damn is she sitting close. I understand it's for warmth's sake, and that everyone is sitting close to one another in a circle, but it's still hard to think about much else.

"Oh, well, sorta. Not with Ferox in particular, but I've seen my share of snowy mountains. Used to go every year or so," I reply when I remember that a conversation requires that you actually talk.

"Every year? What prompted the annual trip?" Cordelia asks.

I can't very well talk about spring break skiing trips with the family, can I? "I'm like a bird. I fly south for winter, then back north for the summer," I say eventually.

She snorts. "Good to know. Any tips for staying warm, Bird-Man?"

"Layers. Especially wind-breaking ones. And I guess we're already doing this, but keeping close to as many people as possible preserves warmth by sharing it across bodies rather than letting the wind take it," I reply.

"I was gonna say, Randy," Lissa says suddenly from the right side of me, "you're pretty warm to sit next to. It's kinda nice." She rubs her shoulder against mine, but then ruins the moment a bit when she snorts some snot back into her nose. Classy.

"Wipe that runny nose of yours on my robes and I'll stuff snow down the back of your coat," I say warningly.

"It's not my fault I can't – *SNIFF* – feel my nose!" Lissa protests. "I was just saying something nice, anyway." Lon'qu beside her wordlessly holds out a handkerchief in front of her face. "Thanks Lon'qu," she says as she takes it, then wakes the entire forest with her foghorn nose-blowing. "Why is Ferox so coooold?" she moans.

"Bah," Gregor says from the other side of the fire, "is nothing. You wait for end of year, come visit Gregor home village. Then we talk about cold."

"No thanks," Lissa says with a resolute sniff.

I feel Cordelia shift to my left. "She's right, though. You are quite warm."

Suddenly my stew is really interesting to look at.

"O-oh, well, I do my best I guess?" I laugh nervously.

I feel Lissa's elbow in my side. "Well, well, looks like even the untouchable Randy can get flustered sometimes! I wonder if I should be offended that I haven't been deemed cute enough to get the same reaction." She giggles when I give her a look equal parts irritated and pleading for help. But then she notices something past my shoulder. "Oh! Hey Maribelle! Come join us, it's a lot warmer sitting with everyone!"

I turn my head and, true to her word, there's Maribelle, decked out in a big, fluffy white fur coat. She flashes me a small, polite smile before addressing Lissa. "I think I will. This cold is just too much! I've no idea how the Feroxi handle this for a full half of every year!" She wedges herself between Panne (who by the way seems to be handling this weather comparatively very well) and Sully.

Look, it's not like it's her fault, because she didn't do anything, but her presence here is definitely making the scene slightly uncomfortable. I feel Cordelia subtly shift away from me and lean into Stahl on her left as best she can without being obvious. I notice a few Shepherds very pointedly not looking at either of us. Maribelle looks like she can't relax, just sort of fidgeting as she sits there.

I feel bad. I feel like I did this to her. It's not fair that her just walking into the group should get this kind of response. I need to fix this somehow, if I can.

This all feels annoyingly high school-esque.

"So, how does everyone else pass the time when we're on the march?" I ask. "I know we aren't in as sociable a mood when the weather is this taxing, but there must be some methods y'all have to keep sane out here."

Lissa, angel that she is, pounces on the chance to have a normal talk. "I dunno about you guys that don't have bodyguards, but I usually just bother Lon'qu if I'm not bothering Emm. He's not the best conversationalist, but I think I can mostly read his expression to see what he's thinking these days." Lon'qu scowls as Lissa grins.

"Oh yeah? And what is he usually thinking?" Stahl asks.

"Hmm…" She puts on her best Travis Willingham impression. "'Stop standing so close to me, woman,' most of the time." That gets a good laugh out of everyone. Even Lon'qu's frown cracks a bit.

"Gregor usually have flask of the good stuff on hand. Is good for keeping warm, and is good for making march less… marchy," Gregor says, brandishing his flask. "Never in bad mood when you have good stuff in you."

"What do you keep in there, anyway?" Sully asks.

"Is a secret. Gregor cannot tell," he replies.

"I usually pass the time thinking about all the food I'm going to make when we get back to Ylisstol. Getting back to an actually stocked kitchen will be the best," Stahl says wistfully.

"I listen for predators. It's amazing we don't attract any, with all the noise you humans make," Panne says.

"I'm usually so focused on not falling over into the snow that I can't really pass the time doing anything else," Sumia half-moans. Poor girl.

"As long as I'm walking behind a beautiful woman, I need nothing else to pass the time," Virion says, earning a shove from Sully that ousts him from the circle. He doesn't find his way back in and is forced to become a one-man second row. I wish I could feel bad for him.

"You know," Gaius chimes in, "used to be I'd just suck on a candy and sulk when my old outfit was moving between towns, wasn't a lot of talking among us. But it's been a lot nicer with you all. Most of the time I can find someone to have a good laugh with, and even when I can't, I just… I dunno, it's been good." He stares at the fire. "I know we're at war and all, but in a way, I don't know if I've ever been this happy."

"Aw, Gaius," Sumia and Lissa say together. Sumia nestles a little closer to him.

"Gregor feel same way," Gregor says. "This group is very nice. Even when fighting get bad, I know my friends do not even think to leave Gregor. Old group would have left Gregor for dead if even a little dangerous to save me."

"That's what makes us different," a voice from outside the circle says. As he steps closer to the firelight, Chrom's face becomes visible. "We never leave behind a comrade, no matter what. That's what makes the Shepherds who we are." The circle makes space for him to sit between Gregor and Gaius.

Virion lets out a little 'Ah' of a whimper, protesting that he hasn't been let back in.

I feel Cordelia squirm a little as Chrom gets settled. Slightly wounded pride aside, it is a little cute.

I realize I haven't heard from the one person I most want to make sure gets included. "Maribelle, what do you do?" I ask.

She looks a little surprised to be called out particularly like that. She reddens a little as she answers, "Well, when I'm not making sure everyone is safe and not taking any damage from the cold, and when I'm not also keeping Exalt Emmeryn company with Lissa, I will admit I occasionally indulge in singing to myself."

Gaius jumps back in. "Oh yeah! I do that too! Sometimes it's songs from my home town or whatever, but lately I like practicing those songs Bear taught us!"

Now it's my turn to redden a little. "Yeah?"

"Sure! I might not keep a flask on me like Greg here, but sometimes a nice drinking song can at least remind me of a warm night of drinking with my new buddies."

"Well, I'm, uh, flattered. Thanks, Gaius," I stammer. I had no idea those goofy songs meant that much to anyone, even him.

"Oh hey! As long as a lot of us are here, wanna teach us another one? We can wake up the whole forest!" Gaius suggests.

Oh jeez. I wasn't expecting that either.

"Yeah!" Lissa nudges me. "Come on, it'll be fun!"

"Uh, are you sure?" I ask. How many songs do I even know that sound good without instruments?

"Do it! Do it!" Gaius starts semi-chanting, so I put a stop to that before it gets out of hand.

"Fine, fine. Lemme think… Okay, what about this:

 _Some people call me the space cowboy, yeah.  
_ _Some call me the gangster of love..._ "

* * *

And so it was that the world of Awakening got acquainted with the Steve Miller Band. Cordelia might never have sat as close to me as she did before Maribelle arrived, but all things considered, I'm just glad we could dispel some of that discomfort, at least for a night. Everyone goes to bed warm, smelling of bonfire smoke and with a song firmly wedged in their brains.

* * *

After what feels like a several-week-long slog of chiseling through several-foot-deep snow, we finally arrive again in Ný Von. At least, I'm pretty sure it's Ný Von. It's just as snowed-in as the rest of the country, with the exception of narrow pathways having been carved out on the roads, just barely wide enough to accommodate our wagons. Little footpaths to the door of each building have also been dug out, but it doesn't diminish the feeling of moderate claustrophobia as we navigate the city's winding paths toward the khan's palace.

The palace itself has been pretty well cleared of snow, the one building in the city that's been cared for so thoroughly. The stone pillars that hold up the southern pavilion are currently adorned with burgundy banners with a golden eagle perched on a gold wreath embroidered into them. I am led to believe this is Flavia's family crest, and for the duration of her tenure as the supreme khan, these banners will be hung around the city. It's a pretty slick look, contrasted with all this white snow.

Anyway, it's a lot nicer to be seeing all this from the slightly warmer interior of the command wagon. Getting to hang out here is undoubtedly the best thing about becoming a tactician alongside Robin.

If only the company were as pleasant.

"Sooo~" Robin says, sliding over to stand beside me as we watch the snowy rooftops go by, "I didn't join you guys last night because I just wanted to go to sleep early, but I saw you and Cordelia sitting together by the fire, all snuggled up. Was it romaaantic?"

I scowl. "Hardly. With the group it's fine, but when I'm with just her, I can't relax. Same thing as what happened with Maribelle. I'm totally fine until I decide I maybe like someone, and only then do I lose the ability to form sentences around them."

"So you _do_ like her then?"

"I mean, I always have. Have you seen her?" I look down at Robin beside me.

She shrugs. "That's fair. She's got a lot going for her."

I look back out the window. "But no, I wouldn't even say I like her more than I always have. It's more like, once I realized she was willing to spend time with me even when it wasn't somehow necessary for training or healing or whatever, that was when it hit me how much I don't know how to talk to girls."

"You talk to me just fine," she says.

"Do with that knowledge what you will," I reply.

She frowns. "Rude. Anyway, so it's not so much that you like her that bothers you, as much as not knowing to what extent she might like you?"

"That sounds reasonable. Let's go with that."

"If you want, I can put you two in battle together more often. Worked well enough for Kellam and Miriel, Sully and Vaike, and now a few other budding relationships. It wouldn't be hard to make that pair work in the field," she offers nonchalantly.

I cock an eyebrow. "Sounds like an abuse of power to me. You really have been matchmaking all these couples, haven't you?"

She grins, looking outside. "All I do is read the room and give the right people a nudge in the right direction. They're doing all the heavy lifting."

"Right. Anyway, it's not like I mean anything serious by it so far. It's just that the moment the possibility enters my head, I lose my cool. It's something I realized was technically possible, that's all. I don't want to profess my undying love or anything," I reply.

"If you say so. If you change your mind, you can let me know I guess. In any case, I should make some adjustments to my chart…" She slinks back over to the table to bust out her relationship chart.

"Whatcha writing?" I ask, but as I approach she snatches the chart off the table and turns her shoulder to me.

"You've already compromised the data once by looking at it! I won't let you jeopardize it further," she half-growls.

"Fine, fine. Write your diary by yourself–"

"It's not a diary!"

"–but do it quickly; I think we're just about at the palace now."

As I finish saying this, the wagon slows to a halt as the caravan pulls up to the khan's palace. While the group rushes to get the essential supplies out of the wagons and into the palace before we freeze our asses off, I notice Flavia and Basilio standing together outside the pavilion, flexing and stretching and looking just a little bit too comfortable with these arctic conditions. Meanwhile, I hope we can get this 'regrouping' over with quickly, because I'm already ready to get the hell out of here.

Why doesn't any country ever have just normal weather?

* * *

 **A/N: Greetings from the land of the rising sun! My semester abroad is well underway, and that means I may or may not be an even busier fella than usual. I'm hoping to keep my updates consistent, but if they prove inconsistent, at least now you know why. I hope you guys liked this one! I'm not a huge fan of filling the space between major locations, but on the other hand, that is technically how the Shepherds would be spending the vast majority of their time: traveling. I hope I at least kept it dynamic enough to stay engaged!**

 **Wouldn't be an author's note without a shoutout or two, so here's thanking my pre-readers Mixed Valence and NotTheArchitect for the pointers on this chapter. MV has some fun, climactic stuff with Earthborne planned quite soon, so make sure you're caught up with him! And NotTheArchitect, while much newer to the site, has been putting a lot of effort into his homebrew D &D story The Divine Age, so if fantasy worlds with funky religious stuff and unusual magic rules and sassy protagonists are your thing (and if you've read this far, I know you like at least one of those uwu), check him out as well! And now here is your Mixed Valence out of context quote of the week: "OBLIVIOUS DUMBASSES."**

 **So, I feel comfortable making the call on the results of the cover idea/popularity poll. In an overwhelming plurality, Robin came in first (only six people DIDN'T vote for her), followed by Maribelle, Chrom, Lucina, and the Traveler. One very encouraging thing for me was that even though a lot of options were only included in the poll as kind of a formality and/or meme, even so, over half of the characters got at least one vote. To me that means that I'm at least doing a decent job at doing these characters justice, which is probably in my top two or three concerns when writing this story. So thanks to all who voiced their opinion, and I'm still looking for an artist who can maybe help me follow through on this idea. In any case, it was nice to see which characters you guys think are working.**

 **As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**


	29. Ch 29: Nowi Wants to Grow a Beard

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 29: Nowi Wants to Grow a Beard**

 _"Oh. Well, that's fine, I guess. I'll just find something else to do," Randall says with a calculated shrug. "See you later, Robin. Let me know how it goes." He walks off toward the hall of bedrooms, stiff in the shoulders._

 _"Jeez, that'll put him in a mood," I mutter to myself as I take my leave so I can get my maps and other charts from the command wagon. I don't notice Chrom has joined me until he speaks up._

 _"Put who in a mood?" Chrom asks, walking quickly to catch up and walk beside me._

 _"Good, you're here. I was going to send someone to find you. The khans have requested that only the two of us be with them to formulate the grand strategy to take back Ylisse and defeat Gangrel. They've cited security concerns, as some scouts have reported strange folk coming and going from Shepherd encampments as we've made our way back north. I don't know what that's about, and of course I'd like to believe that none of us have been reporting our movements to outsiders, but it's got the khans worked up a bit. So they don't want anyone other than you and me. And like I said before when it came to the decision to come back to Ný Von in the first place, there's a lot on which we have to defer to the khans' judgment." By now we've reached the command wagon, so I climb in and start gathering the materials we'll need. "But I could tell it bothered Randall to hear that he was being shut out."_

 _"Well, I guess they just don't know him like you do," Chrom replies with a shrug._

 _"Yeah. It's understandable from their perspective. Here, hold these," I say, handing him a stack of a few dozen charts, maps, and tactical manuals._

 _He staggers a bit in an effort to steady himself. "Gods above, Robin, what is all this?"_

 _"Everything we might need to formulate a working plan to win this campaign. It's every informational resource at our disposal." I pick up a stack myself and start walking back to the throne room with Chrom at my side._

 _"Do we really need all this?"_

 _"Better to not need it and have it than the other way around."_

 _"I guess… Is this the romance chart?" he asks, looking at the chart on top of his stack._

 _"...I stand by what I said before. Better to have it."_

 _"Why on earth would we need this?" Chrom asks, looking at the chart like it bit him._

 _"Look, for example, if we need to divide our numbers to orchestrate a pincer attack, it's better when forming groups to put people with those that they'll, you know, get along with. If we carelessly pair a couple of recent exes or slap a couple that doesn't get along together in a pivotal position, we're bound to have trouble. There's a non-zero chance it could prove useful, so we're bringing it," I explain exasperatedly._

 _"I guess that makes sense when you put it like that." We walk for a few seconds in silence. Then his next thought bursts out of his mouth, as if unbidden by its owner. "By the way, why the hell does that chart say that I have no romantic prospects? I'd say I'm at least a reasonably kind, wealthy, eligible bachelor, right? And I'm not too bad on the eyes, I'd like to think!"_

 _"Chrom, I am not at liberty to discuss the contents of the chart. It's highly confidential information," I reply._

 _"As far as we could tell, it's just your personal impressions of people! Hardly earth-shattering information. But why do you think that I don't have any prospects?" Chrom demands._

 _I don't think he's going to drop this. "Because you're like the least romantic person I know! All you do is train and fight and patrol and occasionally talk with your sisters or Frederick. But mostly that first thing. How do you think that makes you a viable romantic interest? Frederick is more romantic than you, Chrom."_

 _"Wha-... hang on just a moment! I don't think that's a fair assessment, Robin!" he protests._

 _"Oh yeah? What else do you do?" It's only now that I realize we stopped walking at some point to have this conversation._

 _"I take my dinners with everyone else! I talk and laugh with people over meals pretty often. I even joined the group for drinking the other week. I'm plenty sociable." He's legitimately pouting at this point._

 _"Yeah, but usually you're talking about either training or the war. I'm not saying it's a bad thing that we have a leader that's so focused on winning this thing. In fact, it's a damn good thing. But you can't deny it makes you a little romantically unavailable," I say._

 _"Well, what else am I supposed to talk about? What do people talk about?" he asks._

 _"Chrom, you are asking perhaps the worst possible person," I deadpan. "Why don't you ask your little sister? She's always got something to say. Or hell, ask Randall. I usually can't get him to shut up either."_

 _"As if you even try. Usually you just egg him on. But you're probably right. Lissa would be a good person to ask. It's been too long since we talked about anything that wasn't deadly serious," he says thoughtfully._

 _"There you go. Now let's go. I wanna get this over with so we can get back to Ylisse and start chasing those asshats out of our country." We resume walking._

 _"You know, now that I think about it, you're kind of starting to talk like him," Chrom remarks after a while._

 _"Who, Randall?"_

 _"Yeah. It's hard to place it exactly, but you just sort of talk more like he does than you used to. Maybe it's just that you swear more these days."_

 _"Well, if I do, it's just an effect of overexposure. I'm definitely not doing it on purpose," I reply, a little embarrassed that I didn't notice my foul language._

 _"If you say so," he says with a shrug that makes him drop a few charts off the top of the stack. We try for a while to get them back in his grip, but it proves impossible while we're weighed down with the awkwardly perched materials already in our hands. Looks like we'll just have to come back and make a second trip._

 _I sigh in resignation. It's gonna be that kind of day, huh?_

* * *

"So is this the part where you tell me to 'clear my mind' or whatever it is? I've never really meditated before," I say, unable to hide some of my irritation.

Not that I'm irritated at Libra. I'm just salty that I'm being left out of the planning meeting being held in the khans' strategy room. Apparently they only wanted Chrom and Robin with them to form the plan for retaking Ylisse, and I'm not cool enough to attend. I know I've just about never spoken with either of the khans, but still, it stung a little to be discounted like that. I guess it did open up some time to officially start my training with Libra, so at least there's something for me to do. We are sitting a few feet away from each other on the rug next to my bed in the palace, facing one another.

Libra smiles patiently. "Not exactly. I think that will happen naturally enough. No, what I need you to do is make yourself aware of your body. So, follow my instructions as closely as you can, alright?"

"Okay. What do you mean, 'aware of my body'?" I ask.

"Think about where the disparate parts of your body are, and what they're doing. As many parts as you can register at once. We need you to be acutely aware of your entire body if you're going to be able to manipulate it to put one over on your tomes. You'll be learning to maneuver your body at the smallest level. Let's begin."

He closes his eyes. "Feel your hands. Where are they positioned? Are your fingers tensed? How does it feel when you relax them? Are your arms relaxed? What about your feet? Your ankles? Locate the places where your body is working, even as you sit apparently idle."

I notice the work my legs and back are doing just to keep me sitting like this. My arms aren't fully relaxed either; they're lifted a bit and leaning on my torso. I realize I don't know what my fingers would do if I totally relaxed them, so I try it. They lie together almost uncomfortably. "Am I supposed to totally relax my limbs or something?"

"Goodness, no. I doubt you could do it if you tried, honestly. Even in our sleep we tense up our limbs at some places. No, I just want you to feel it for real. Actually be conscious of it. Your body is always doing something. Now, think about your breathing. How much do you breathe in? Do you fill your lungs to capacity with every breath, or do you breathe shallowly? How quickly or slowly are you breathing?"

Having to mechanically breathe rather than letting it happen naturally is uncomfortable. The more I think about it, the more I drive myself insane. Do I always breathe this deeply? I doubt it, but now I can't be sure. Why do I feel out of breath now? The moment I let a breath out, it feels like my body can't wait even a moment to get its next load of oxygen. One of my nostrils breathes more clearly than the other. I become aware of my soft palate's position. Then my tongue, then the position of my neck. I sit taller for a moment, then settle down again, but less comfortably. Less naturally.

"This will be more difficult. Try to feel your heart. How frequently does it beat as you sit at rest? The frequency changes all the time. Even lifting a single finger creates a change. Do you notice the subtle shifts in your heart rate? It is alright if you don't, because in time you will."

I do my best to feel it without reaching for an easy pulse reading spot. As my fingers rest against my palms and my hands against my thighs, I realize I can feel it very faintly as blood shoots through my vessels, both in my legs and in my fingertips. I hear the blood rush in my ears in the otherwise quiet room. Soon the sound is all I hear, a high-pitched ringing that waxes and wanes as I focus in and out on it. Reminds me of when I was a kid, lying in bed in my silent bedroom, just listening to the ring of my own blood and trying not to think about all the places ghosts might be hiding in my room.

It's weirdly taxing to try and keep track of all this. As I focus on my heart, my breathing becomes automatic again. I'm no longer aware of all my limbs. As I shift my focus to them, my heartbeat takes a distant backseat again. I'm supposed to be able to do all this at once?

"Surprisingly difficult," I remark, startling myself with the noise in the otherwise quiet room.

"It will be for some time. I had to practice daily, and if I were to take up a tome again, I would have to resume my training. It's difficult to learn and very easy to forget. Because if you slacken your focus, your body begins to work automatically again, the way it is designed to. Don't forget this: when you take on this training, you are supplanting your body's control of itself and taking it all on yourself. It is unnatural," Libra says, his gentle voice filling the room.

Is this even possible? To willfully change your heart rate, keep track of every micro-twitch of every muscle, manage your entire body, and still be able to function? Can a person live like this, let alone fight like this?

"I can see in your face that you are having doubts. Don't worry. I did say it's difficult to learn, but it can become second nature with enough effort. It is simply a matter of time and commitment," Libra says. "Eventually, Naga will bless your efforts, and your load will be lightened."

Does he mean that literally? Are we playing the divine intervention game now? I guess I won't ask for now, since it sounds like he'll want to explain it more later anyway. For now I'm sure he just wants me to focus.

I get back to it, closing my eyes to try and shut out all distractions. Focusing on everything at once remains too difficult for me, so I kind of rapidly switch from one thing to another and try to get it as good as I can, but even then it feels like I'm not really committed to my focus on any one thing. This goes on for some time, how long exactly I have no idea. You kind of lose your perception of time when you're this absorbed in your own body and the micro-movements it makes. I find it exhausting after a while.

Finally, mercifully, I hear Libra stand up, and when I open my eyes, he's motioning for me to stand as well.

"I can tell that you were at least making an effort. That is commendable," he says. "It is clear that you really want to learn this."

"Making an effort, huh? Was I getting the hang of it at all?" I ask.

"So far? Not really. But that's to be expected. You at least tried to get in the right mindset, and that's good," Libra replies patiently.

"Lovely," I can't resist saying. Starting essentially from scratch in yet another combat method doesn't have me in the best mood. It was different with Wards, which I understood more or less right away. With this, I feel like I'm rebuilding my skill set from the ground up.

"I could tell you came into this first session irritated about something, but that's alright. Part of the training is learning to work through the very real emotions you feel. Even in low-stakes practice like this, you'll never be in a truly neutral mood when you come in. You'll learn to make the training work around you, not the other way around. For now, it's good that you learned a little about how your body reacts to moderate anger. Frustration. You're building a catalogue of information about how your body responds to emotion. You'll practice when you're happy, sad, lonely, lovesick, excited, furious, and more. The best way for this method to work is for you to get a grasp on every facet of your emotional being."

So he's known all along that I'm mad about something. Even though it had nothing to do with him and wasn't his fault, he just took it in stride because he knew it would help me.

"Jeez, Libra. You might be the most genuinely good person I've met here," I say, a little ashamed that I ever pointed any of my irritation at him, even unintentionally.

His face darkens in spite of the enduring smile. "I don't know about that. If I have become a good person, I've certainly gone the long way around." He takes a moment to straighten his robes, and when he looks back up at me, he's pretty much back to normal. "All the same, Naga redeems. In any case, let's call that enough for one day. It wouldn't do to have you work yourself too hard."

Wonder what that was about. Though it's pretty apparent he doesn't want to talk about it. I decide not to press it for now. "Thanks for your help, Libra. Even if it's a slow start, I hope it's better than nothing." We both head for the door and out into the hall. I mean to head for the main hall to join the others and see what the group is up to.

"Of course it is. Despite how strict I might make this technique seem, the truth is that even the little bit you learned today will help you. The more aware you are, the better you will become, but anything that keeps you from falling headfirst into the tome's influence is good. You'll be making the tome work for you, not the other way around," Libra says as we reach his room.

He stops walking. "If you don't mind, I'd like to take some time to myself to pray. Feel free to go on without me."

"Oh. Alright then. Well, thanks again," I say as he opens his door.

"It was my pleasure. Good day, Randall." He goes into his dimly lit room and closes the door behind him.

* * *

 _Despite the constant distractions during the meeting as Basilio and Flavia bickered about how best to use their troops, I think I can say I'm satisfied with the plan we've come up with. I'm surprised when I notice how tired I am after the meeting. Those two are almost impossible to corral, and Chrom wasn't much help on that front. Oh well. At least it's over._

 _Now Chrom and I have returned to the command wagon to replace my various documents. At last, I think I've got all my charts back in order. I allow myself a self-satisfied sigh as I survey my table, double-checking that everything is in place. Wait._

 _"Chrom, you don't still have my romantic prospects chart, do you? If I promise to give you a more favorable outlook on the chart, will you stop sulking and give it back?" I ask as Chrom gets halfway out the wagon door._

 _He looks back, visibly confused. "What are you talking about? I thought you had it."_

 _"No, when we went back, it was you that grabbed it I thought. It was in your stack originally."_

 _"Well, I don't have it now."_

 _Oh no. "Chrom, this isn't funny! Where did you put it?"_

 _"I didn't put it anywhere! You probably just left it somewhere. I gotta go, but good luck with that," he says, leaving the wagon._

 _"Chrom, you have to help me find it!" I shout after him._

 _"Normally I'd love to, but I've got to find Lissa and have her teach me how not to be so, what was it… romantically unavailable. Talk to you later!" he says without turning around, waving goodbye._

 _"Rrrgh!" I leap out of the wagon and hurry over to the hallway leading to the khans' throne room. I walk up and down the hall, checking behind every table, suit of armor, vase, and other decoration, but to no avail. It's not here._

 _"This is a nightmare!" I shout. Who knows who could be sullying my data with their untrained eyes at this very moment?_

 _"What's a nightmare?" I hear someone say alarmingly close to my head, making me jump and subsequently fall on my ass. I look up, irritated, and see Gaius grinning down at me. "Lose something, Bubbles?"_

 _"Hello, Gaius. Yes, I lost a very valuable chart, and it's important that I find it," I grumble as I get to my feet._

 _"Ooh, an important chart? What's in it?" Gaius asks._

 _"Highly sensitive information. I can't tell you. Have you seen a rolled-up chart around anywhere?"_

 _"Can't say that I have. But then again, you're not giving me much to go on. What does it look like?" He's smirking something fierce._

 _"You know… like a chart. A roll of paper sealed with a clasp. Nothing visually spectacular about it," I reply, not hiding my impatience well. You know, Gaius does look quite pleased with himself about something. And he did used to be a career thief… "You're sure you haven't seen anything like that?"_

 _His smirk twitches. "What, you don't believe me? Maybe you think I stole it, huh?"_

 _"I don't make accusations without solid evidence, but I will say you're at least a suspect, considering…" I pause, then abandon that thought mid-sentence. "Not a lot of other people around at the moment, after all."_

 _The smile fades. "Lots of people come through this hallway, Bubbles. But do let me know if any of that 'solid evidence' you're looking for comes up." He saunters down a side corridor and out of sight._

 _...Did I just offend him with that statement? I did, didn't I?_

 _My palm makes contact with my nose. "Gods, I really am the last person to ask about how to talk to people." And I'm still no closer to finding that damn chart._

 _Now what the hell am I supposed to do?_

* * *

You know the best part about being friends with Exalts and khans? Royals have the best taste in comfy furniture.

I reflect on this as I sink still deeper into the bear-pelt-covered leather couch near the fireplace in what I've decided to call the Grand Lounge. The room doesn't seem to serve much of a purpose beyond being a place to get cozy. Its structure is mostly stone, like the rest of the palace, but there's a much more welcoming vibe to this place. Plush carpets cover vast swathes of the floor, and imposing but pleasing portraits of beefy important Feroxi adorn the walls. Warmly-colored lighting fixtures give the whole room a soft glow. And of course, plenty of comfortable furnishings to complete the atmosphere. I bet important parties use this room as a space for guests to chill, but right now it's my domain. Well, mine and about ten other Shepherds', but who's counting?

In a chair on the other side of the fireplace, over the casual conversation of the people between her and me, Nowi shouts, "Hey Randy! Does your beard keep your face warm?" A few people stop talking to look at either her or me.

"Uh… Yes," I call back, feeling like I should at least answer her question even if it means being just as rude. I'm sure as hell not giving up my warmed-up spot on this couch for something this trivial.

"I thought so! How do you grow one?"

"You just sort of… do. I don't do anything special except not shave it."

"Then how come I don't have one? I'm tired of being so dang cold all the time!"

Well gee, Nowi, have you considered wearing an actual shirt? "It, uh, won't work for you though."

"Why not?"

I am not about to be the one who gives the biology lesson about sex differences to the dragon loli. "Because you're a manakete. Dragons don't have beards," I reply. Gregor, Stahl, and Anna all chuckle at my expert dodge.

Nowi pouts. "That stinks! I think I'd look cool with a beard like yours!"

Now I'm laughing too. "I'm sure you would, Nowi."

The big-ass wooden door to the Grand Lounge swings open, and Gaius comes in and sits on the other end of my couch. He looks like he's just sucked a lemon.

"Hey Gaius, what's up?" I ask.

"Nothing much. Jeez, even in the oh-so-palatial khan's joint, still can't manage to stave off the cold, huh?" he growls with a shiver.

"I hear that. But hopefully we won't be here too long. I know Robin is pretty irritated that the khans wanted to come here in the first place, so I'm sure she's doing all she can to get us back on the road pronto," I say in an attempt to reassure him, but based on the face he makes in reply, it seems like I'm just deepening the irritation. Oh well. Some folks just want to be in a bad mood sometimes.

"Well, we can't get back on the road until whoever stole her precious chart fesses up, can we?" Gaius asks the far wall.

"Chart? What are you talking about?"

"Oh, our good friend Bubbles has misplaced some super-important chart somewhere around here, and it seems we're all suspects in its theft," he grumbles. "Or at least I am. Gotta tell you, not a fan of my supposed friend accusing me of nicking her stuff. I did leave that life behind to join you all, ya know."

Oh man, that is exactly like her. Wonder what chart she lost? Could it be..? Has Christmas arrived early in Regna Ferox? I'd love little more than to learn that the romance chart's contents have gone public.

Still, I should at least try and put out the fire a little bit. "Well, I'm sure she didn't mean anything by it. She just gets really anal about her books and maps and shit, and has a habit of throwing decorum out the window when important stuff is on the line," I say.

"Still," Sumia chimes in from a nearby chair, "it's not very nice for her to accuse Gaius of something like that."

These damn Shepherds and their gossip-mongering. This is the same shit that makes group spaces so uncomfortable for Maribelle, even when every bit of two months has passed since we broke up. "Look, Sumia, I think that that's between Gaius and Robin to sort out. It's none of our business, got it?"

I guess I must have said that in a sterner tone than I meant to, as Sumia all but physically winces at my admonishment. "Y-you're right, Randall. Sorry."

"You sure get scary when you're defending your woman, Bear," Gaius adds.

"As if," I reply instantly, trying not to so much as glance at Cordelia, off having her own conversation with Panne a few couches over. "And no, I'm just not a fan of people being put through the social wringer for something little like that. She just spoke carelessly. I'm sure she's currently kicking herself for it. You have any idea how much stress she's under? I bet the last time she got a proper night of sleep was the last time we were here, before we learned that Emmeryn had been captured. Maybe earlier. I think maybe she's earned a freebie faux pas or two."

Now it's Gaius's turn to look a little ashamed. After a few seconds, he says, "Maybe you got a point. Doesn't mean it didn't rub me the wrong way."

"I'm sure it did. Now go find her and sort it out with her, put the whole thing to bed right now," I say.

"Do I have to? It's a lot warmer here on the pelts," he moans.

"You can have your spot back when you've cleared the air with her. Now git," I say firmly.

"Uuuuugh, fine. See you later, Dad." Gaius stomps off, sucking on his lollipop with his lips pursed out like an overgrown kid.

Watching Gaius leave, Sumia giggles. "You kinda did sound like a father there, Randall. Giving us kids a good scolding. You're normally so carefree."

"I think I preferred Bear to Dad, personally," I sigh. I don't like playing social policeman, but I guess no one else is willing. "This army is so rumor-happy."

"I guess that's the price that comes with an army that cares about each other like family. Everyone's always in everyone's business, like a nosy little sister," Sumia remarks.

"Is that you when you're with your family, Sumia? The nosy little sister?" I ask with a grin.

"No way! That would be Tricia, my younger sister. She's nine years younger than me, and ever since she could crawl, she's been constantly in my stuff," she replies with a wistful smile. "I do miss her though. I've been thinking about her a lot. My family shouldn't really be in much danger, since our home is pretty out of the way. But still, I can't help but worry."

"Your family's among the nobility, right?"

"Yeah, you could say that. It's nothing huge like the Exalted family or Maribelle and her family in Themis, or even Sully's family, the van Bourgaeana clan in Radd province. But my father is the baron of the Anchorage estate. It's a significant holding in East Sedgar province. It was a great place to grow up. Far from the border, far from Ylisstol, kind of far from everything, but still connected. I only hope the Plegians haven't bothered with it. I haven't heard from my family since we left Ylisstol." She kinda curls up a little on the couch as she says this. Looks like she accidentally concocted herself a bad mood from scratch.

"If it's as out of the way as you say, I'm sure they're fine. And anyway, the next step for us is taking Ylisse back. If they have occupied East Sedgar province, then we'll just have to chase them out and get your home back too," I say.

She gives me a guilty smile in response. "Thanks, Randall. I know you're trying to cheer me up. I appreciate it."

There's only so much I can do to reassure her right now. That'll have to do.

* * *

 _"Well, Mustafa? Is the message getting across by now?" Gangrel shouts over the pained yelling of his prisoner as Mustafa's arms un-shatter. "I can do this all day! And even when I can't, there are plenty of competent healers around to keep the fun going. How long do you intend to keep this up?"_

 _When he catches his breath, Mustafa stares the king in the eye and growls, "Every time you or one of your men inflicts another injury on me, it confirms for me all over again that I will never allow my wife, my child, or my friends to get anywhere near you."_

 _"Is that your way of trying to get me to stop?" Gangrel asks icily as he tosses his Heal staff aside and stands over the ex-general._

 _"Hah! Hardly. Just letting you know the score. Every minute you spend indulging your perverse sadism on me is a minute my allies and your enemies spend getting stronger. I can do this a lot longer than you can, I assure you," Mustafa replies._

 _The king's brow starts twitching. "Is that right? And what makes you so sure of that?" Gangrel asks, spittle flying in Mustafa's face._

 _"Because we're smarter than you. We're stronger than you. We have more to lose than you, which means we will fight harder than you. We stand for something, where you stand for nothing but your own aggrandizement."_

 _"What would you know?" Gangrel demands. "What would you understand about the sacrifices I've made? Inheriting a country fresh out of the bloodiest war in living memory from my fool of a father. Stamping out the fires of war hawkish fervor among not only the citizenry, but the nobility as well. Convincing the people to resume normal trade and abandon wartime production, begging farmers to sell their crops at a price people could even dream of affording. What man of a mere nineteen years could be expected to bring his country back from that without breaking a few eggs? No, I have done as the people demanded of their king. I have a chance to lead them to prosperity. And I will lead them to still greater heights, when I am free of parasites like you who live under the protection of Plegia's banner while seeking to undermine its authority!"_

 _Mustafa starts to reply, but Gangrel slaps him before any complete words get out. Gangrel wouldn't admit it to anyone, but it hurt his hand much more than it looks like it hurt Mustafa's face._

 _"Where are they, Mustafa? I don't have any interest in hearing what you have to say unless it's to answer my questions," Gangrel says, drawing his Levin sword angrily and gripping it tightly in his stinging hand._

 _Mustafa sighs. "I'll answer your question. You asked what I would know about sacrifice. I would know plenty. Ask General Campari. The friends we lost in Gideon's War, the– guh!" He is interrupted by Gangrel's fist striking him in the solar plexus._

 _"I'm not in the mood for you to get cute with me, Mustafa!" Gangrel says wearily. "So unless you're going to tell me what I want to know, I'd just as soon you stay quiet so I can crush your joints in peace."_

 _"Honestly, boy," Mustafa hisses through gritted teeth as his breath slowly returns, "what do you think you're accomplishing, sending all these young people to their deaths? You claim to know the horrors of war, yet it's by your orders that the fighting continues."_

 _"I don't have any choice," Gangrel mutters. "It's what the people demand."_

 _"Which people told you that? Because they certainly represent a minority, Gangrel! Your people want peace."_

 _"They say they want peace, but what they want more is food. Resources. Things that we can and will have when the east and the north are ours. Leaving people to starve is not peace, even if they're not being sent to war. This country is in need of deliverance, and I will be the one to lead it."_

 _"You? Unlikely. You'll sooner find a blade at your throat, I expect, keeping on like this," Mustafa replies._

 _"And who will be holding it? One of your men, I suppose? Mustafa, isn't it clear by now? Your men have abandoned you. Your arrest was made public to the people of Plegia more than a week ago. Not even a whisper of a plan to rescue you. Your plan is already dying. I just mean to make sure it dies. And then all of this pain you're suffering can end," Gangrel says._

 _"My men know that our plan is bigger than me. Bigger than any of us. I'm proud that they have not stooped to base sentimentality in the face of a crisis. In fact, if I were you, I'd start sleeping with one eye open, boy. They're more likely to kill you than they are to rescue me," Mustafa says defiantly. "And even if they don't, Prince Chrom will. I've seen him on the field of battle. He spared me when I agreed to stand down, but I was lucky, because I would not have bested him in a fight. And in all the time I spent training you with the blade, you never once defeated me. Think, then, how your fight against this new Exalt will go when you've given him all this time to gather his strength. You've been dooming yourself for weeks already."_

 _Gangrel grits his teeth. Is Mustafa truly so unwavering? And worse yet, he's right. While the Plegian military has been licking their wounds, no doubt that princeling is doing the same behind the safety of the Longfort by now. When next they fight, it won't be here on Gangrel's home turf. It will have to be in Ylisse._

 _And alive or not, his hostage is gone. He has nothing to hold over Chrom that he hasn't already used. Even though he still has the edge in the war, he feels that edge slipping all the time as he loses momentum and the Shepherds gain it. In truth, he already has little time left before he will be forced to leave for the east to meet his adversaries, and he knows it._

 _And, irritatingly, Mustafa knows it too. These interrogation methods seem to be making no headway, and Mustafa is too smart not to know that Gangrel is starting to bleed. This really is a waste of his time, though he's loathe to admit that Mustafa was right from the beginning._

 _He comes to a decision. "Mustafa, the moment that my spies return with information on the whereabouts of the Shepherds or your allies, I will be leaving for Ylisse. If by the time I leave, you haven't told me where your allies are, I promise you will be executed. Is that clear?" Gangrel hisses._

 _"Clear as crystal, Your Highness," Mustafa replies._

 _"Rrragh!" Gangrel growls as he stabs the Levin sword into Mustafa's shoulder and delivering a brief but intense shock. "Whether you live and tell me what I want to know, or you die and I get to see it before I leave, I'll be looking forward to this either way." He leaves the room, slamming the iron door shut behind him._

 _Mustafa is in pain, but it's not nearly enough to crack the look of satisfaction on his face as he sits alone in the cold, dark room._

* * *

"Alright, everyone, listen up!" Chrom announces to the group after we've finished dinner. "Here's the plan as it stands right now for our invasion into Ylisse. We're going to start in the northwest, entering through side trade routes leading through the Sedgar provinces. We're not going to enter via the Northroad, number one because it wastes time to go that Far East, and number two because the Plegians are sure to have patrol garrisons stationed there. It's our hope that the Wolf Forest will allow us to stay more or less under the radar until we reach one of several options for resupply. Of course, we can't know yet which towns have been hit hardest by the Plegians, but our scouts will be able to inform us as we approach. We'll be stopping at whichever location has been left most untouched by the Plegians."

He pauses to let us take that in. "I know that this might upset some among us if it turns out we have to ignore their homes for now and resolve to come back later to help. After a great deal of deliberation with the khans, we came to the agreement that the best course of action is to retake Ylisstol first and begin our liberation campaign from there. It's not only the capital and the most populous city, but also the most fortified and easily defended if we can install our own garrison there. It will be much, much easier to take Ylisstol if the enemy doesn't know we are coming. Our plan hinges on moving quickly and making as little noise as possible.

"Now then, our candidate locations for resupply are the following. First choice, the pegasus knight training facility near the border between the Sedgar provinces. As it's already a military outpost, it's the most likely to have usable resources that we can pick up. It's also the most likely to be already occupied by the Plegians, so our hopes aren't high. But it would be nice, and we aren't ruling it out just yet. Our second choice is the manor at the Ferrieder barony in East Sedgar province, the home of Lord Aventine Ferrieder. Lord Aventine himself may still be missing, but the Ferrieder clan has served the Exalted family for generations, and they have always kept an impressive security staff on hand at the family manor. If any clan between us and Ylisstol is still keeping up the fight, it'll be them. That said, it's a fairly prominent location, and we are assuming for now that it's been hit as well. Our third choice is the Anchorage estate in East Sedgar. Honestly, it's a good bit out of the way, so it's a last resort option, as much as I would personally like to see to the safety of Sumia's family. In any case, our route from here to the Ylissean border is secure, and the khans' forces will be with us all the way this time. Rest well tonight, because we're leaving in the morning. That'll be all for now."

Oh. Well that's what happens when I don't get invited to the planning meeting, I guess. Their second choice for resupply locations is the home of the guy who tried to sell us out to Gangrel like four or five months ago. Lovely. And there's not really a way I can get them to see why that's a terrible idea without telling them I know things I'm not supposed to know, is there? Double lovely.

Maybe I can bring something up with Robin. If anyone's going to understand, it would be her. She doesn't have the same implicit trust of Aventine that Frederick and the Exalted family seem to.

I might wait a bit to talk with her about it, though. She looks like she's in a bad mood sitting over there.

I also reflect what this means as far as where we might have been if we were still following the script. We'd be marching back to Plegia right now, preparing to take the fight to Gangrel directly. When I think about it, that's a dumb idea. If Gangrel had decided not to show up to the Border Wastes, where would that have left the Shepherds? Though I guess in-game, most of Gangrel's army deserts him in the wake of Emmeryn's sacrifice.

Somehow, I'm getting the impression that real life isn't working out that way. By all accounts, there's still a large number of soldiers supporting Gangrel even now. Maybe Robin was right back at the Midmire: has word gotten out that Emmeryn survived? If so, I guess it's not surprising that we're still seeing such loyalty from the Plegians.

Someone taps my shoulder, interrupting my thoughts. "Randy, I wonder if I might have a word," Maribelle says behind me. I turn to face her. As is often the case, I can't tell what she's thinking by that expression.

"Uh, sure," I say, getting up to follow her. "Where at?"

"It's poor grammar to end sentences with prepositions," Maribelle corrects automatically, then blinks. "I mean, my apologies. Force of habit. Anyway, I'd prefer to speak somewhere… you know…"

I get it. "Right. Lead the way, then."

I'll admit, my heart is beating harder than normal as we walk down the hallway to her room. I have no idea what she could want. We agreed we would revisit the idea of 'us' after the war, after all. Has something changed with her? Is she angry with me on account of everyone shutting her out more than usual lately? That sounds more likely, now that I think about it.

I work a nice pit of worry into my gut by the time we reach her room, and she shuts the door behind her. She crosses the room to the pair of chairs by the reading table and sits down, gesturing for me to do the same.

As I sit, I ask, "So, what's up, Maribelle?"

She fidgets a little. "I have no idea how to begin a conversation like this."

"Like what?"

The fidgeting worsens. "Um… Well, I'd like to start by thanking you."

"What? What for?"

"I know that you've been going out of your way to make sure that I feel as welcome as possible with the group. You reached out to me the night everyone went drinking in that oasis town, when it would have been easier not to. You specifically ask me questions when the group has conversations around the fire to ensure I'm not left out. You've been doing your best to be a good friend to me, and I want you to know that it's recognized and appreciated." She smiles.

Why do I get the feeling that I'm not gonna like where this is going, then?

"I mean, it's what any friend would do, right?"

She shrugs lightly. "Maybe. Though I'm also aware it hasn't been easy for you. We left things in such a… complicated position, last time we were here. It was already months ago, but I replay parts of that conversation over in my head more often than I'd care to admit. I was so upset at the time. But now I see that you were right to make the choice you did. It was brave, and kind."

"It's been kind of weird to adjust to, yeah. We used to spend so much time together, back in the beginning. But after all this happened, suddenly we were spending most of our time off in our little worlds. I started training to be a tactician, then to be a dark mage, then to use Ward staves with Libra. It's like all my time is being put toward something else."

"You've learned quickly. You had to adjust to a great deal with little advance warning. Honestly, when we first met, I was amazed how little you seemed to know about how to do your job. But of course, I'm proud of how far you've come. Even if I remain more skeptical than ever about that dark magic business, when Libra explained to me what had happened… that your concern for me allowed the tome to take control… I will admit that it was, in its way, flattering. That you still cared for me enough that you might lose your grip on your emotions." She closes her eyes and takes a breath. "Actually, that's not a bad way to segue into what I really need to talk to you about."

My stomach leaps. "Yeah?"

"Yes. I want to… gods, this is so cruel of me… I want us to decide, here and now, that we will never be romantically together again. Not after the war. Not ever."

The churning intensifies. "I… see. What made you want to decide this so firmly?"

I can tell by the wobbling in her voice as she responds that she's starting to get upset. "It's not right, stringing you along like I have been. Even if you don't think that's what I've been doing, and even if it hasn't been intentional, the fact remains that I've been keeping you essentially on the hook. I've been truly happy to see how much you still obviously care for me, but… even so, it's not the same feeling you want me to be able to provide. I don't think it ever will be. And I've tried. I've been jealous of the time you spend with other women in the Shepherds, and for a time I thought it might mean that I was starting to fall for you for real.

"But then I saw what true passion for someone else looks like. It took shape as you tore through Plegian lines, ignoring every injury you sustained just in your desperation to reach me. It was incredible. You could have died, and it just didn't matter to you, because you thought I might be in danger. It was scary, to be sure, and you'd better not put yourself at risk like that again. But when I remembered my own feelings of jealousy over the time you've been spending with Robin, or even seeing you so flustered sitting next to Cordelia, I realized how those feelings pale in comparison to what you did for me. I tried to convince myself that they were the same, or that someday they might be the same, but I was lying to myself. And you were right, last time we spoke here: we have to be honest with ourselves."

I take a moment to process what she's saying while she takes some deep breaths to calm herself down. She's almost talked herself to the point of tears already.

"So… You want to put this to a stop forever, huh?" I ask.

"Yes. I'm so sorry, Randy. I know this isn't something you want to hear," she replies, and just like that, she's about to cry again.

"Hey, hey, don't cry. It's not my favorite thing to have to stomach, but even right now I know it's better than if you had let me go on thinking there was a chance when you knew there wasn't. It's better to put this to bed right away if you're sure."

Even so, she starts sniffling, so I get out of my chair and kneel in front of hers so we can share an awkwardly positioned hug. It's not comfortable, but she holds on tightly to my back and buries her face in my shoulder, so I'm kinda stuck there for a little while.

I would later reflect how strange it was that I was the one comforting her while she was the one rejecting me.

"You know, in a way, it's kind of a load off my mind, I guess," I say.

"Whht dh yhu mhen?" she asks my shoulder.

"It's just been kinda hard. Spending time with you, I mean. There was always this sense that folks were watching us, I guess. Waiting to see what would happen, maybe. Or just not enjoying the tension. Maybe that can change."

She lifts her face enough to speak properly. "That's been the worst of it. I've missed you so much these past two months. Of course, Lissa has been there for me, and I've been keeping myself busy, so I haven't just been wasting away, but… I don't know, you always had this talent to pull a smile out of me even when things were at their worst. Who else would be sitting in a Plegian prison cell and think to start singing just to irritate the guards? What kind of person can still find something to smile about in a situation like that? Being your friend has made me so happy. And this past month, with the Exalt's and Frederick's injuries and the dampened spirits overall, I've needed you more than ever. But it always felt like you were needed elsewhere. And even when you weren't, it was so… stilted. I just want things to be okay between us again. And I hope by telling you what I've been thinking, maybe we can get back to that. Perhaps not right away, but eventually."

"I understand. I've been feeling the same way. I'm always able to count on you when the chips are down, but I miss being able to just spend time with you." We finally release each other, and I sit back on the ground in front of her chair. "Really, thanks. It does kinda hurt to know you don't feel that way about me, but I guess I already knew that. It's better to just… let it go, right?"

"I think so. I just wanted to clear this up before we left for Ylisse. I have a feeling I might need you more than ever in the coming weeks. Especially when the time comes to return to Themis," she says.

"I'm always here for you if you need it. I'm sure you know that by now," I reply.

"I know you are. It's good to have one thing I can count on for sure in these uncertain times."

* * *

I surprise myself by sleeping fairly well. No nightmares or anything. For once, my conscience doesn't seem to want to bother me today.

* * *

 _"You've heard the reports by now, I assume?" Aventine asks Mustafa's 'ace'._

 _"I have. General Mustafa has been arrested. I heard the men discussing it today."_

 _"As much as it pains me to say it, we cannot allow ourselves to be swayed from our goal. The only reason Gangrel would make his arrest public is to draw us out. He's counting on us making a mistake in our haste to rescue him," Aventine says. "Your task is the same as before. If you can get close enough to strike, don't hesitate. Gangrel's not the best fighter in the world, but he's skilled with that Levin sword. He got a taste of battle in the latter years of Gideon's War, after all."_

 _"I know. The moment an opportunity presents itself, I will cut him down."_

 _"And try to come back alive, if you can. It would pain me to learn that we've lost yet another comrade in pursuit of our dream."_

 _"I will make my survival my second priority, then."_

 _"All I ask is that you not throw your life away with a rash assassination attempt. Get close. Regain his trust. He's sure to be skeptical of anyone he hasn't had under his personal command recently, with so many pockets of resistance cropping up among his forces."_

 _"There's no need to worry. My first brush with death has taught me caution. General Mustafa trusted me enough to call me his ace. I will not let him down. But in return, I want your assurance that you'll put resources toward rescuing him just as soon as you can."_

 _"Of course. I want to see him come back to us alive just as much as you do. Now, you should go. There's sure to be movement soon, and you need to be back in Golgotha before they leave," Aventine says, holding out his hand to help the ace onto his wyvern._

 _The ace waves off the help and pulls himself up single-handedly. He hooks himself into his custom harness with practiced efficiency, then knocks a heel into his wyvern's side. "All the best, Lord Aventine. Kinba, let's go." He takes off with incredible speed, blowing Aventine's hat off as he flies away. The wyvern screeches a shout of joy that fades into the distance as she finally stretches her wings again._

 _The old man sighs as he picks it up off the ground. "These young people have such vitality. Makes me feel all the older."_

 _The door to the west wing of the manor bursts open, and Henry stumbles outside._

 _"Did I miss him? Is he already gone?" he asks urgently._

 _Aventine nods. "I'm sorry, but yes. He just left."_

 _Henry looks downcast for a moment, but perks back up almost unnaturally quickly. "Well, I wanted to tell him bye, but I guess I'll have to settle for saying hello twice when he comes back."_

 _Aventine forces a laugh. "Of course, Henry. Just as soon as he returns."_

* * *

If Robin looked like she was in a bad mood yesterday, today she looks like someone just told her they ran over her dog.

"Is it really still about the chart?" I ask, trying and failing to mask the incredulity in my tone.

"It might seem silly to you, but I really wanted to find it. I stayed up most of the night looking for it. It was nice of Gaius to help me, but I sti–"

"Hold up, you made Gaius help you too?"

"No! I wouldn't do that. He offered to help me find it. He said he felt bad about…" she catches herself, "well, it doesn't matter. Anyway, we had a little spat yesterday because of something I said, but he came to me and we exchanged apologies. As a show of good faith, he helped me look for it. Of course, it was to no avail. And now we're about to leave Ný Von without it. Great. I'll have to start it from scratch. And who knows who ended up with it. Gods, I'll be mortified if that chart's contents go public," Robin explains, slapping her thighs in frustration.

Someone knocks on the door to the command wagon.

"It's open," Robin calls, still sounding quite terse.

I'm a little surprised when Miriel of all people comes in. "Forgive the intrusion, Robin. I believe this belongs to you." She holds out a very familiar looking scroll of paper to Robin, who snatches it up in an instant.

"You found it? Thank the gods. And thank you, Miriel. Where did you find it?" Robin asks.

"In point of fact, I didn't. Kellam did. He spent a few hours trying to get your attention yesterday so that he could give it back to you. He said he had to give up eventually, but that it might go better if I tried giving it back instead."

While I cackle in delight in the corner, Robin turns a very satisfying shade of crimson. "W-well, please tell him I said thanks. And sorry, as well."

"I will relay your messages when I next see him. However, if I may, I wish to give my thoughts on the validity of the contents of your chart. While much of what you've hypothesized is well-grounded in readily observable behavior, there is also much that appears to be baseless conjecture. For example, what reason do you have to think that Ricken and Tharja–"

"OKAY, THANKS MIRIEL. BYE," Robin politely shouts as she shoos Miriel out the door, shutting it firmly behind her. She instantly whirls on me, still laughing in my corner. "And what do you think is so funny?" she demands.

"Literally every word of that exchange, actually," I wheeze. "Ricken and Tharja? Are you serious? They've never even spoken, I'm pretty damn sure!"

"I will not be entertaining any further discussion of the contents of this chart," she says sharply, crossing back to her table and stuffing the chart under all the others in the crate on the tabletop.

"Aww, come on, lemme see it. We can gossip over which boys we think are the cutest~" I say, walking over her side. "My personal vote is for Virion. That cravat is sooo studly, don't you think?"

She's not entertained. "First off, no. Second, also no. And third, not even close. Not even top five."

"Ooh, so you do have a list. Come on, who's the finest male specimen in the Shepherds?"

"Sure as shit isn't you, if that's what you're wondering," she growls.

"Are you suuure? I even trimmed by beard and my hair a bit to console myself after Maribelle formally rejected me last night." That's actually true. I never did make time to go into town and buy more clothes, but I did find a pair of scissors and a mirror in one of the bathrooms, so I worked my face over a bit.

"I hadn't noticed. Wait, what? What happened?" The irritation drops, and intrigue takes its place.

"Oh, yeah. I thought I had mentioned it already. Maribelle and I talked, and we agreed we are never, ever, ever, ever~ getting back together. It was… unpleasant in the moment, but I think it will have been a good thing. Hopefully. That's what I'm telling myself for now, anyway. Better than moping about it, as much as I love a good mope."

"I mean, it's good that you're seeing the silver lining, but… well, I know you care about her a lot. Are you okay? I didn't think she'd do something so… dramatic, I guess."

"Yeah, I think I'll be fine. It's hardly the first time a girl has shot me down, after all. So you can go ahead and cross out that question mark or whatever you had written in your chart about us," I reply.

For a moment she looks irritated as I bring up the chart again, but sympathy quickly wins out again. "Would that all people could take rejection so well, I suppose."

"Yeah." How the hell am I meant to respond to that? Who gets praise for taking rejection well? That's hardly a marketable skill. We're silent for a moment. I idly poke around a little wooden figure on her map of the continent. I think it's the one that represents the Shepherds. It's the blue one, in any event.

"Here," she says suddenly.

When I look back at her, her arms are outstretched. She looks a little embarrassed, and she isn't quite meeting my eye.

"Sorry?"

"I'm offering a hug. You've hugged me plenty of times when I had worries or bad stuff on my mind, so I'm returning the favor. So come get your friendly sympathy hug."

"...If I wait to give you that hug, will you hold that pose indefinitely?"

"Going once. Going twiiiice~"

"Fine." I close the one-step gap between us and claim my friendly sympathy hug. It's a good hug. She smells like lemons, which makes me realize I haven't smelled any citrus since I first came to this world. Makes me think of my room back in America, since I used to use lemon-scented wipes to clean it. That's trippy. I've been doing a good job not thinking much about that life these past few months.

"Uh, Randall?" Robin asks. "You alright?"

I let go promptly. "Oh, yeah, sorry. You just… well, you… You know what, nevermind. It's nothing."

She raises a brow. "Doesn't sound like nothing to me. Come on, what's up?"

"You just smell nice, that's all," I reply, feeling my face start to burn.

She grins. "Oh yeah? I got to use the royal bath house yesterday, and I used this fancy imported soap they had there. I thought it smelled pretty. I don't usually get to be, you know… girly? It was fun. Lissa used it too, so you could say I got to smell like a princess, transitively speaking." She flicks one of her twintails over her shoulder. "Maybe I should have you call me Your Highness for the rest of the day."

"I don't even call Lissa that," I say, "and she actually is a princess."

"Fine, fine," she waves a hand dismissively. "Buzzkill."

"Though speaking of, I think I want to pay Emmeryn a visit. I haven't been to see her since before we got back to Ný Von. I want to see how she's been doing lately. Frederick too," I say.

"Alright. Have fun," she replies.

"I'm sure I will, Your Highness."

I hear her blow a raspberry at me as I open the command wagon door and am greeted with an unwelcome blast of icy wind. I am so ready to leave this ninth circle of Hell bullshit behind.

* * *

When I enter the medical wagon, I'm greeted with the sweetest sound I think I could have asked for.

"H-hello," Emmeryn says.

"Randy! Guess what!" Lissa all but squeals as I come in. "Guess what!"

I can't help but laugh at her display of uninhibited glee. "I think I can guess, actually. Hello, Emmeryn." The Exalt smiles when she hears me repeat her greeting back to her.

"This is SO GREAT!" The poor princess is practically jumping up and down. "Oh my gods!"

"Good morning, Randy," Maribelle says. It's only now that I notice her sitting near the front of the wagon, checking on Frederick's legs. "As you can see, we're all in quite a chipper mood today. The Exalt has started to regain some grasp on language, at least enough to manage hellos and goodbyes. She also seems to consistently understand when she is being spoken to, though whether she actually understands the content of what she's told or to what extent is not yet clear. Even so, progress is progress, no?"

"It sure as hell is," I say, my cheeks already aching from the force of the grin now plastered on my face. In the face of all this uncertainty, this really is a relief.

It's not much, but it's proof that some things are getting better all the time.

* * *

 **A/N: So I'm a big doo doo brain, as I'm sure most of you are aware. But this time it's because I forgot to tell you guys** ** **when I put the last chapter up** about the COOLEST thing that's happened relating to BaRD in a long while: the story officially has a TVTropes page dedicated to it now! Thanks to the efforts of Mixed Valence, you can now check out some of the stories tropeyness by checking out the link available on my profile page (because good God does FFN _not_ like me trying to put a link in the chapter itself)!**

 **Of course, I also have to thank MV for his help with sharpening up my chapter and keeping it nice and smooth. Earthborne is due for another update quite soon, so be sure to give it a look-see. And while we're on the subject of impending updates, NotTheArchitect will be updating The Divine Age in fairly short order as well, and I can say without reservation that it's already going to be his best chapter yet. And here is your Mixed Valence out of context quote of the week: "I know I shouldn't poke them. But I'm tempted. God I'm tempted."**

 **I can also finally announce that I've got a talented artist on the horn for this cover image idea. I won't disclose further details at this time, as the image is still in the works, but suffice to say, I'm exceedingly excited. Tremble in anticipation, mortals!**

 **As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**

 **P.S. To that one guest (you know who you are):** **( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**


	30. Ch 30: If You Were From Where I Was From

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 30: If You Were From Where I Was From**

I felt kind of guilty the first time I noticed her. In all the cold and the craziness and my own extremely busy schedule, I just never took note of her, even though I'm sure she's been with us (or at least with the khans) pretty much ever since we left Golgotha. I mean, she's a very private person, and in that big-ass cloak she's using to stave off the cold, you could just about miss the person inside entirely, but that's still no excuse to just ignore her.

Anyway, that's the backdrop for my decision to quicken my pace to join Olivia and finally introduce myself. Unfortunately, it seems her cloak blocks a lot of her hearing, so when I get fairly close and say, "Hi there, my name's Ra– _ech_!" I'm rudely interrupted with a panicked flying elbow to the nose. I drop to my knees as my eyes instantly water and I hold my nose to prevent too much blood from spilling out.

"Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry, you just startled me is all!" Olivia yelps, seemingly torn between wanting to help somehow and not wanting to stand too close to a bleeding stranger. "Do you… I mean, what can I do to help?"

My stinging, dripping nose throbs, and I do my best to maintain my patience. "Let's start with agreeing not to hit me again," I reply, my voice muffled by my hand covering my face.

"I didn't mean to! It was just… oooh, I'm sorry!" She's so damn sincere in her apology that I feel my spite waning already.

I decide it's not a big enough deal to waste any vulnerary on (I don't think she broke anything, anyway), so I pick up a handful of snow and hold it against my nose. "Mby nambe is Ranbdall," I say, my plugged nose warping my speech. I stick out my right hand (the one unsullied by blood) to shake her hand. Though she looks at my hand like it's a snake for a moment, she eventually reaches out and gingerly shakes my fingers.

"N-nice to meet you, Randall. I'm Olivia," she says, barely above a whisper, throwing in an apologetic look for good measure. Sorry Olivia, but all your charming shy girl points went out the window when you concaved my face just now. "You're with the Shepherds, right?"

"Yub. Bretty good team to be a bart of. Glad to habe you with us," I reply. We come to the silent agreement to pause the conversation until I'm finished bleeding, which fortunately doesn't take too long. Though the folks behind us will probably be surprised by the bloody snowball I toss off the side of the trail if they see it.

"So you're a dancer, right? How long have you been at that?" I ask when I've snow-rinsed the remaining dried blood from my face.

"Well, ever since I can remember, really," she replies. "You're a healer, I heard. When did you decide to do learn to use staves?"

"A few months ago," I say with a shrug. "I woke up hungover in a bar one day with a healing staff I don't remember acquiring, so I figured, why not make use of it? And here I am."

"That's… quite the story. What did you do before that?"

"Not much of anything, really. I was coasting through life," I reply, which now that I think about it isn't really a lie. I've certainly been a hell of a lot more productive on a day-to-day basis here than I ever was back home.

"I see," Olivia says. "Well, it's good that you've found a purpose here with the Shepherds, then, isn't it?"

"You know, I think you've hit the nail on the head, Olivia."

We walk in silence for a while, with her keeping a wide enough berth that I'm reminded of my outsider status as far as she's concerned. Looks like this'll be a slower burn of an acquaintanceship than I'm used to.

* * *

" _Chrom, I hope you're aware that we're not exactly pleased with you."_

" _What, because I told my soldiers our plan?" I reply incredulously. "Your military might run on troops blindly following commands, but in the Shepherds, we rely on mutual trust to carry the day."_

 _Flavia pinches the bridge of her nose. "I'm aware, Chrom. But the whole point of having the private planning meeting in the first place was to keep the information discussed on a need-to-know basis. Why did your Shepherds all need to know the whole plan, down to the method for retaking the capital several weeks from now?"_

" _Because even if you're right and there is in fact someone sending messages outside of the group, I'm positive that person is not among the Shepherds. I didn't tell any of your soldiers, nor do I intend to. I told my friends the plan because they have all earned my trust many times over. If you want to keep your people in the dark, that's your business. But I had every right to share that plan with the Shepherds," I reply._

 _Basilio speaks up, in a much calmer tone than the khan regent. "We're not saying it wasn't your right. You're a leader to your people, same as we are to ours. We're just trying to make sure you're tempering your impulses with caution. The Shepherds haven't done anything to call your decision to trust them into question, but that's not to say they never will. Just… our first priority is stopping King Gangrel, and that means making sure this plan to retake the capital goes off without a hitch. We're only looking out for you. We don't mean to condescend."_

 _I've been thinking a lot about what Randall told me after we rescued Emm._ "You brought us into the Shepherds so that we can protect people. What sort of Shepherds would we be if we couldn't even protect our leader from the worst of himself? You can count on us, Chrom." _If there's anything the past few months have taught me, it's that I can't do this alone. Nor would I want to anymore._

" _Your concern is appreciated, Basilio. But I have to trust in my friends if I'm to rely on them to take back my home. And to me, that means not leaving them in the dark as to what we're doing or where we're going. It's not like I'm trying to undermine you two or anything. We just do things differently in Ylisse, is all," I say._

 _Basilio nods respectfully. "Fair enough. We just wanted to make our voices heard."_

 _Flavia, still sounding a little sullen, adds, "If our plans get leaked, though, you've got a big 'I told you so' coming your way."_

" _If that's the price I pay, then so be it."_

* * *

Trudging through the snow is as fun as it ever was, but fortunately with every passing day as we press farther and farther southeast, the snow lessens bit by bit. During that time, we make a few solid strides in important areas.

Firstly, Emmeryn's speaking ability only continues to improve with Lissa and Maribelle's help. Once greetings are mastered, it's only a matter of time before Emm starts relearning how to communicate some basic emotions and desires. Things like telling Lissa she's happy to see her, or that she's hungry, or, frequently, that she's cold. There's no sign of her prior memory returning, but to be honest that's more or less what I expected. It's far from ideal, but she's healthy, decently happy, and getting better every day. Lissa does her best to keep her exercising up as well, but frankly in weather like this, that takes an understandable backseat.

Frederick is also getting used to his new way of life. For one thing, his arms are getting seriously _jacked_ , as if they weren't already. His shoulders and traps start looking like an NFL player's as he gets used to pulling himself around every day. Maribelle and Lissa help him exercise his legs as best they can, but it's pretty much inevitable that his leg muscles will atrophy over time. Because it's not technically an injury, there's nothing healing magic can do to help prevent it or even slow it. Even so, he's not getting discouraged, and instead focuses on the things he still can do without working legs. Donny also fine-tunes the harness to the point where Frederick can pretty much ride without worry. He's a little stiff in the saddle, but in his experimental sparring sessions with Chrom, he seems to be adjusting well. Overall, he too is definitely getting better by the day. Most heartwarming of all is watching him watch Emmeryn's recovery. He draws so much inspiration from her that he's become a bottomless well of superhuman effort. He really wasn't kidding when he said he was going to do everything he could to show her all over again how much he cares for her.

I haven't really been to many combat practice sessions due to my own busy training schedule, but from what I hear, people are starting to develop some serious skills. Lon'qu is impressing everyone with his speed with the blade, getting frequently compared to a whirlwind of steel. It's sounding like that might be what Astra looks like in person. I'll have to see that for myself.

Meanwhile, Gregor has been consulting with Anna about how to integrate healing into his style. I always assumed Sol was going to be a ridiculous fantasy and probably not actually exist, because how could hitting someone with your weapon actually heal your own wounds? Turns out I'm just an ignorant jackass though, because Sol is apparently real, and Gregor and Anna are working full tilt to make it possible for him to pull off. With Gregor being the professional combatant and Anna being at least a relative authority on healing, they make a pretty good team. I've also noticed Chrom occasionally sitting in with them, trying to work out how to align one's weapon with the ambient magic in the air as it makes a cut.

I always kind of knew about ambient magic, because of course magic doesn't just come from nowhere, and staff manufacturers and tome scribes harness this magic to produce potent magical tools, but I hadn't really thought about the use of a weak magical conduit (like a sword, axe, or lance) to channel that magic directly into self-healing. Apparently it involves being extremely precise with your angle and direction as the weapon is used to strike to attract some of the ambient magic focused around your target. Magic kind of likes to group around stuff, rather than floating freely through the air, and living things are all major conduits for ambient magic. So it follows that you can access a lot of it by hitting another living thing, like a human or their mount. Or a tree, probably, but I'll bring that up with them when they actually get the basics of Sol down I guess. Anyway, that's in the works, which is exciting stuff.

Oh, and a few of us have ranked up! Well, sort of. In real life it's not all exciting and whooshy-whooshy, but it does involve getting newer, better equipment and training with a wider range of weapons. We stop in a mountainside town a few dozen miles north of the Longfort and find a place that specializes in combat armor, so a good number of Shepherds get re-outfitted with nice new duds.

Lon'qu gets himself a nice set of Chon'sin-imported lacquer armor. It's not the strongest stuff in the world, but it's a hell of a lot better than any fabric and it's impressively light. He also gets into the habit of keeping a few swords of different sizes and makes strapped to his person at all times. In short, he looks every bit the textbook swordmaster.

Stahl and Sully both get their armor worked over and spiffed up to suit their needs. Sully seems to be leaning toward the paladin route, with stronger but unobtrusive armor and an improved shield (and some actual shoulder armor, thank God. That was stressing me out), while Stahl goes all-out and adopts a heavy suit not unlike Frederick's outside of its dark green tint (apparently achieved with a sort of patina that gently oxidized the armor without damaging or corroding it), complete with a small armor shell for his shoulders. Fennec also gets re-outfitted to match her rider's heavyset style.

Gregor, Gaius, and Virion leave on their own and come back decked out in new sets of armor. Gregor's gotten himself some nice metal armor and a proper shield, but surprisingly, he doesn't look much anything like the Awakening heroes I'm used to. If anything, he more resembles a Fates hero, combining thick fabrics at the joints with metal plates and a few leather supplements. Looks pretty fuckin' sweet, actually. Gaius got himself a nice set of dark-tinted leather armor, looking quite dangerous even though it lacks those fuck-you arm spikes I was expecting from the assassin class. Maybe he'll have to add those later? Virion seems to have chosen fashion over form, as even though he's bought a round buckler and a rapier for himself, he hasn't done much in the way of armor aside from a metal chest piece and some plates for his left shoulder and forearm. He still wears the cravat, with the bottom kinda tucked underneath the top of his chest piece. I'll begrudgingly admit it looks pretty cool.

I think Kellam got himself a new armor shell? He seemed happy about something when he came back from the market, but I didn't get a good look at him.

Meanwhile, lots of the Shepherds are expanding their horizons to get more well-rounded on the battlefield. Sumia and Cordelia are both receiving lessons from Robin on casting Thunder magic. While Gaius starts learning the basics of archery from Virion, both Vaike and Lon'qu insist on Khan Basilio teaching them instead. At the same time, Virion is learning rudimentary swordplay from Gaius and occasionally Chrom, who is himself a trained court fencer. After sessions with the latter, Virion usually looks pretty much ready to die. And after my insistence that she is a great teacher (and my refusal to become a teacher myself), Maribelle eventually agreed to teach Miriel the fundamentals of staff magic. Reportedly, it's not catching on as well as it did for me ("The woman barely seems to feel anything for anyone outside of her fiancé on an emotional level! How am I meant to teach empathy to a fully grown woman?").

Oh, and I got some goodies of my own! I actually almost forgot to buy clothes again, but when Cordelia heard that I'd gone all this time with just one set of clothes, she took it upon herself to pull some money from the Shepherds' supply fund and buy three supplementary outfits (pants, shirt, socks and underwear, what a saint!) for me, as well as a brown leather jacket that reminds me a bit of the jacket I wore through most of college. It's hardly the same exciting stuff that everyone else is getting, but the gesture of buying that stuff for me is certainly appreciated.

"I couldn't very well just stand idly by and let you waste away in the same clothes every day, could I?" she explains herself when I ask why she went to all the trouble. "Besides, it wasn't difficult once I obtained your measurements from Robin's charts."

"Robin let you see her charts?"

"At first she seemed reluctant, but when I explained that I was trying to do you a favor, she changed her mind. I suppose she's rather private about those charts, huh?"

"Yeah, she really is," I reply. Robin, did you go as far as to compromise your charts' sanctity just to make this happen? I'm being pulled into her next matchmaking scheme, aren't I?

I will tentatively go along with it for now. You know, just to see where this leads.

In the end, with all the armor and weapons we bought in one go, we exhaust a lot of our war funds, and a few Shepherds now owe Anna a pretty penny in their own right. Still, seems as good a use of our funds as any, provided we leave ourselves enough for food and water and stuff. We've been at war for a while now, of course, but now it feels like we're going to war 'for real,' I guess. Rescuing Emm was important, but that was an incredibly rushed and sort of haphazard extraction operation, rather than a formal campaign against the enemy. This is definitely the latter now. I think that when people start wearing new, better armor and practicing new skills, it makes this feel like a more deliberate invasion to take our home back.

Oh, and of course, my training with Tharja and meditation with Libra both continue as well. As I get better at keeping track of where I am, bit by bit, my sessions with Tharja become less and less taxing. She does report that my magic lacks the power it used to have, but frankly I'll take that deal every time. I'm starting to notice when my heart rate reaches the point of what I've come to recognize as anger or rage, and I can dissociate myself from that physiology more effectively. My body stays mad, but my mind is standing just outside, keeping watch on my body but not partaking of the anger nearly as much. It's not perfect, not by a longshot, but I start to understand what it will feel like when I do eventually get it down. Any progress is good progress, as far as I'm concerned.

For her part, Robin bought herself a nice Levin sword. She looks very pleased with the thing, and has a habit of unsheathing it just to "inspect" (read: admire) the blade when we're on the road. Her tomes are nice, but I can tell nothing does it for her like her zigzaggy zappy sword.

A few days after we leave the smithing town behind, I decide I should probably go ahead and have the conversation I've been wanting to avoid for a while.

"Hey Robin, I wanted to bring something up with you," I say after taking a quick peek outside to make sure we have no unwanted listeners.

"Mmhmm?" she replies absently, running a gloved fingertip down her blade.

I take a seat in one of the chairs on the other side of the war table. "It's about the locations you and the others picked for resupplying once we're in Ylisse. Specifically, it's about Lord Aventine's family's manor."

"What about it?"

"I know we have it listed as our second option, and it may very well be still defended against Plegian attack. But, well… we can't go there."

She finally looks up at me. "Why not?"

"Because Aventine is a traitor. Was, maybe. I don't think we've gotten any word on whether he's still alive."

Now she's sitting up. "You're right, we don't know where he is. What do you mean, he's a traitor?"

"He's the reason we ran into Plegian soldiers at Breakneck Pass over the summer. Didn't it strike you as odd that we'd encounter the enemy so far to the east and in such an obscure location? That's because Aventine was an informant for the Plegians and sold us out," I say.

She nods, her expression almost alarmingly neutral. "We have long suspected that someone betrayed us back at Breakneck. Why do you think it was Aventine?"

I prepared for a question like that. "I spoke with him before the Plegians appeared. He looked inordinately nervous. Constantly looking around as if he expected something, even though we told everyone the pass should have been safe. When I asked what he was so nervous about, he immediately denied knowing anything. I hadn't accused him of anything per se, but he was super defensive anyway. And of course, right before the fight began, he ran off out of nowhere, and no one has seen him since. Isn't it obvious? He's the one who betrayed us."

God, am I really still having to do this? It would be so much easier if I could just say 'it's cuz I played the game, obviously.' But at this point, isn't it too late for that?

Well, whatever. Looks like it's working. "I didn't know you had talked to him. If that's the case, that does cast him in a suspicious light. And of course, even if you're wrong about him, there's no real harm in simply going to the Anchorage Estate instead, assuming the pegasus training facility is out. I'll bring it up with Chrom later and see what he thinks," she says. She slowly leans back to her original position. "Next time though, I hope you'll tell me something that potentially important in a more timely manner."

"It never came up, I guess," I reply with a shrug. If only you knew how much important stuff I haven't told even you, Robin.

"Well, just for good measure, are there any other potentially important tidbits you're hanging onto that 'haven't come up'?" she asks with obviously feigned nonchalance.

Is there any way I can tell her any of it? How much would it even help? We've already departed pretty heavily from the game script, much to what I'm sure would be Future Randall's chagrin. Does the fact that I know what could have been help anyone if I talk about it? Does any of it mean anything anymore if it's not even going to happen that way?

"Don't think too hard about it, now," Robin interrupts my thoughts. She's got an eyebrow cocked up and her arms crossed. She's put the Levin sword down on the table.

"Sorry. There's a lot I have to think about. I don't think I know anything that would help us, though," I say eventually.

She stares at me for a few uncomfortable seconds. "Randall, if there's something you want me to know, you can say so."

"I know," I reply automatically. I've heard that same kind of thing so many times in my life that the response is instinctive at this point. "I know," I say again, for real this time. But I can't. The moment someone knows, that's it. I can never be just another one of the Shepherds anymore.

* * *

 _A young Plegian soldier yanks the arrow out of his target's skull with a sickening_ schlick.

" _I told 'im to stop, and 'e kept running," the soldier explains as he hears another soldier approach behind him._

" _Hey, I was just gonna tell you it was a good shot. Who is this guy? He doesn't look Ylissean, but he's not Plegian and he's definitely not Feroxi," the other soldier says._

" _Valmese, by the look of 'im. No idea what 'e'd be doing out here, though. Hold on, what's this, now?" The archer pulls a roll of parchment out of the small satchel at the dead man's waist._

" _What's that you've got?" the other soldier asks._

"' _Old your bleeding 'orses, I'm looking," the archer snaps as he unfurls the parchment. "'To my dearest,' uh… Church. Shersh? Chair-Chee? Whatever, it's to someone named this word right 'ere," he points to the word 'Cherche' in the letter's greeting. "'Progress due southeast proceeds apace. Expect arrival at resupply checkpoint within the week. Scout reports still incon…' whatever, the reports are something, 'regarding which of three candidate locations will be selected. Potential locations include pegasus knight training… something along the Sedgar provincial border, the Ferrieder barony, and the Anchorage estate. Expect arrival at Ylisstol within the month. Further updates to come when Ylisstol is liber… lib… is done with. Yours very truly, Duke Virion de Laval of the Noble 'ouse Virion, the Fifth of that Name.' Well, this guy's certainly got a big 'ead, don't 'e?"_

 _The other soldier gives the back of the archer's head a smack. "You dolt! Don't you know what that is? That's gotta be the Shepherds' plans! We just intercepted a really important message!"_

" _We?"_

" _And now we gotta get that to the bigwigs at the capital, right quick!" He grabs his companion by the collar and drags him to a standing position. "Come on, we don't have time to lose! Imagine the promotions, the pay raises, the benefits we're sure to get if we give them something like this!"_

" _If we 'ad all that, imagine the GIRLS!"_

" _NOW you're thinking straight! Let's pull the finger out and get moving!"_

* * *

We eventually make it to the Feroxi-Ylissean border. It's still quite chilly out, as it's getting pretty close to wintertime, but it's a damn sight nicer than the weather up north.

Nice enough, in fact, that on a particularly warm day after marching through the Wolf Forest, I decide I will in fact go take an impromptu bath in that pond over there. It's a good distance from camp, situated in a sunny clearing. There's a large boulder that sticks up near the middle of the pond, and I can make out in the impressively clear water that there's a little shelf of rock jutting out from the boulder under the water that I can stand on while I clean myself off.

Armed with some nice scented soap that I've decided to treat myself with, I check for anyone in the surrounding area and shed my clothes, rolling them up into a neat little roll and stowing it next to a nearby tree.

"Ffffffuck that's cold," I can't help but mutter as I get into the water. Even so, it feels like a million bucks. Refreshing, bracing cold is so much nicer than miserable skin-ripping icy wind. Soap in hand, I swim the short distance to my little rock shelf and just bask in the revitalizing water for a while. You know how often I get to feel actually clean on the road? Just about never, that's how often. So I'm enjoying this while I can. I have a feeling it's all gonna go to hell in a handbasket when we get to Ylisstol. But for now, for this one peaceful moment, everything's–

A splash from the other side of the rock startles me into jumping. My hands automatically move to cover up the kids.

"Whozzat?" I call over my shoulder.

Someone yelps from the other side. "Oh gods, I'm so sorry! I should have checked on the other side of the boulder before I came in!"

Oh, fuck me. That's gotta be Cordelia's voice. Why does this kinda shit always happen to me?

"Well, I'm not exactly decent at the moment anyway, so it's probably good you didn't," I reply.

"A-ah. I am too at this point, unfortunately," she says sheepishly.

Despite the chill of the water, I'm sure I've gone positively scarlet. How the hell am I meant to deal with this? I don't exactly want to get ousted from my bath if I'm being honest, even if it's Cordelia. I had to pull some strings to get soap this nice, after all, and by God I'm gonna use it.

"Well, you're welcome to hang out on your side of the rock, but I'm gonna finish bathing over here," I say after a long moment of painful silence.

"I see. In that case, I'll do the same over here. And we are in agreement that we will stay exclusively on our own sides of the boulder, right?" she asks.

"What kind of guy do you take me for? I just wanna feel clean for once," I reply.

"Fair enough."

A couple minutes of the most tangible silence I've ever felt pass us by while we both handle our business. Eventually, I decide to ask something I've always wanted to know since the first time I played through the game.

"Hey Cordelia, mind if I ask something?" I call tentatively.

After a moment's hesitation, she calls back, "What is it?"

"When did you fall for Chrom?"

A couple panicked splashes later, she replies, "Y-you know about that?"

"Everyone and their dog does."

" _They do?_ "

"Oh yeah. It's the Shepherds' least secret secret. Only person who doesn't know is Chrom himself, and it's not for lack of us trying. He's just completely oblivious to the hints we positively hurl at him."

"Why didn't anyone tell _me_ they knew?"

"I can't speak for everyone, but I always assumed you knew that people must know. You're like the least subtle person I know when it comes to that stuff. Always sighing when he walks by, or getting all flustered when you have to talk to him, or whatever." I know she can't see my shrug, but I throw up my shoulders anyway.

"Oh gods, this is so embarrassing…" she moans. Frankly I'm surprised she didn't say something like that when she first realized I was here, but whatever.

"The question stands, though. When did you get so crazy about him?"

"Heavens, it wasn't long after I first met him. He's always had this sort of pull on me. I first met him when I was just a girl of twelve or so. I was still in riding training, so I was out in the stables, brushing my pegasus down after our afternoon exercises, when all of a sudden, this blue-haired boy bursts into the stable. 'Hey, you there! I need help. Can you take me somewhere on that pegasus of yours?' he said. He didn't even tell me who he was."

"Your first interaction with Chrom was him asking to bum a ride off you?"

"I suppose you could put it like that, yes."

"Forget that other thing then, I wanna hear this story now."

"Oh. Alright then. He had just escaped from his tutor and wanted me to take him to, of all places, Themis. I couldn't fathom why, and I only marginally knew the way there, but he just had this look that told me everything was going to work out. So I agreed to take him.

"On the way there, he explained that his younger sister Lissa had been taken there some weeks prior to begin her training to be a healer, and he wanted to see her. I gather he'd never been away from her for that long before, and his big brother instincts kicked in. It's been probably ten years since then, but I haven't forgotten the way he held onto me the whole way there." She sighs wistfully.

"Did you make it to Themis?" I ask, hoping to derail that particular train of thought.

"Of course. It took every bit of a day, maybe a day and a half, but he'd planned for that and brought some food and water. I don't think he planned to get turned away at the door by an elderly but very firm maid when he demanded to be allowed to see his sister, though."

"Oof," I chime in, stifling a laugh.

"Oof is right. So he convinced me to stay just a while longer, and that night he watched the windows of the various bedrooms in the manor until he saw a girl with long, blonde hair pass by one of them. He assumed it was Lissa's room, so he threw a few pebbles at it to try and get her attention."

"I'm guessing it wasn't Lissa's room?"

"You guess correctly," Cordelia replies, now laughing a bit herself.

"And how did Maribelle take it?"

"Not well. She identified the culprit through her window, then wasted no time in storming down the stairs, coming outside, and demanding to know why a young man was stalking her in the middle of the night. He did his best to explain himself, but she wasn't hearing it. She gave him a firm slap to the face and retired to her room with a warning to not let her catch him snooping around again. That was the first time either of us met Maribelle."

"And you didn't step in to save him?"

"I mean, we _were_ in the wrong, technically. I'd been feeling guilty the whole time, truth be told, but he's just… difficult to say no to. Unless you're Maribelle, apparently."

Maybe that's what Chrom meant when he said he wanted someone to keep him out of conflict. He wants someone who can tell him no. When I think of it that way, it's hard to think of a better person to fit the bill.

"So in other words, you were smitten pretty much right away," I say.

"...Yes."

"Damn. That's a crush with some serious longevity. I can respect that." And now comes the part I think we're both kind of dreading. "Alright, I'm going over to that tree by the south side of the pond to get my clothes back. Do me a favor and don't look?"

"Alright. My clothes are right next to the pond, so don't turn around once you're over there."

"Got it," I reply. And so we abandon the Rock of Mutual Modesty and make a break for our respective clothing piles. I try not to allow myself to look anywhere but right at the clothes themselves as I make a beeline for them and rush to yank my pants back on.

"Come on, Gaius, it's over here, I saw it when I was flying ahead on scout du– _whoa!_ "

Oh God. I should have seen this coming. I really do live in an anime.

"Hehehey there, Bear," Gaius laughs as he and Sumia come through the thick trees and see the pair of us very clearly rushing to get clothed. "We can come back, if you need a minute."

Cordelia answers before I get the chance. "That will _not_ be necessary, thank you very much. We were simply bathing. _Separately_. On _opposite_ sides of the boulder. On _accident_. I want to hear both of you right now say out loud that you understand what I just told you."

"Y-yes Cordelia!" Sumia squeaks instantly.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Mother," Gaius chokes out between giggles.

"Good. Now good day to the three of you," she says stiffly, then storms out of the clearing in what appears to be a random direction.

While Gaius continues laughing, I growl, "Glad you got such a kick out of that, Gaius. I'll be lucky if she ever speaks to me again after this."

"Hold up, was she telling the truth?" he asks when he's calmed down.

"Yes! Obviously! Or did you miss the 'I really really love Chrom' patch sewed on her forehead?"

"Well, I hope you'll forgive a guy for making a few assumptions when we happen upon a couple of hastily dressing young hellions coming out of a shared bath," he replies.

"I mean yeah, but that doesn't exactly help me, does it? And what were you two doing out here? Something equally scandalous, I don't doubt." I cross my arms indignantly.

He points a finger at me. "Right you are, Bear." He continues in spite of Sumia's nonspecific yelps of protest, "Fancied a spot of skinny dipping in the pond, in point of fact. Far as I'm aware, that's still the plan. Right, Stumbles?" He looks back at her.

"G-Gaius! You agreed not to call me that anymore!" Sumia replies, face hidden in her hands.

"Right, right. Sorry, force of habit. Anyway, I suppose if it takes your mind off it, you're free to join us, Bear," he says with a smug grin.

While Sumia makes more protest noises, I raise a hand in refusal. "Thanks for the offer, but I'll pass. I just want to go hide in my bedroll for a while, actually." I wearily pull on my new jacket. "Have fun, you crazy kids. No babies."

Gaius gives me finger guns. Still don't know how that gesture developed here.

* * *

" _Aversa, I have some questions for you," Gangrel says as the dark flier enters his throne room._

" _What is it?" she replies, clearly either uninterested, tired, or both._

" _For a number of years now, you and your fellow faithful in the Grimleal have been telling me over and over again how badly the people of Plegia want Ylisse to pay for the atrocities of Gideon's War. Is that still the case? Are the people still hungry for war?" he asks._

" _Did I ever report any change in public opinion, my lord?"_

" _No, you didn't."_

" _Then it hasn't changed."_

 _Gangrel narrows his eyes. "I'm not sure I like your tone, Aversa."_

 _She finally looks him in the eye. "Forgive me, my lord. I've been rather occupied lately, what with this total war going on and all. It's been rather a drain on my time and energy."_

" _The war that_ you _asked for, I remind you."_

" _What is this, my lord? Are you losing your grip? Thinking of backing out now, when you've nearly all the pieces in your hands? Are you so used to being the king of a downtrodden mess of a kingdom that success is too scary a concept for you?" Aversa snaps._

" _Of course not! But my duty is to my people. I must give them what they demand. So I have to be sure that this war, no matter how difficult, is still what they desire. So that's what I need to know. These reports of soldiers throughout the kingdom abandoning their posts… Can you tell me that they're the exceptions, not the new rule?" Gangrel sinks slightly into his throne, consumed on all sides by the velvet-covered gold._

" _I think you have it backwards, my lord. You are the king. You are the sovereign. You wear the crown. It's up to you to tell these simple-minded peasants what they want. Where you lead, the people follow. So lead them."_

" _Where I lead, they follow… Right. You're right, of course. And right now my people need me to lead them to Ylisse, to conquer it and claim the land that the blood of our fathers earned."_

" _Will that be all, my lord?" Aversa asks._

" _Yes. I'm leaving tonight to make for Ylisse. General Campari will be holding down the fort here, so I urge you to keep an eye on things as well. The man is experienced, true, but old. Complacent, even. Just don't let things fall apart."_

" _Of course, my lord," Aversa replies, unsure if she can keep anything at all from falling apart. Herself included.  
_

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Cordelia's been avoiding me (and Gaius and Sumia) like the plague for the past few days. Hardly her fault, so it's not like I'm mad or anything, but I'm not a fan of this arrangement. It has, however, allowed me to take my mind off that kind of frivolous stuff. Every day we get farther southeast, and it's only a matter of weeks until we reach the capital. I'm trying my best to keep focused on that, and on my training. So in that sense, the closest thing I have to a romantic interest putting me at arm's length has been an objectively good thing.

Things especially start feeling real when we get a report back from our scouts that the pegasus training facility is, as we feared, crawling with Plegian military. We have no choice but to divert our course east and keep trucking.

The following day, I'm walking alongside Stahl and Vaike, making some small talk, when I'm tapped on the shoulder by, to my surprise, Chrom.

"Can I speak with you in the command wagon, please?" he says.

"Uh, sure."

As we enter the wagon, he closes the door perhaps harder than necessary behind us. Robin is sitting at the table, but she doesn't say anything as we come in, so I gather she knew we were coming. Chrom gestures for me to sit in one of the chairs while he crosses to the other side of the table to stand next to Robin.

"So, I'm told you want us to pass up the Ferrieder barony. You think that Lord Aventine is the one who betrayed us at Breakneck Pass?" he asks, but it comes across as more of a challenge than a question.

"Yes to both. We should definitely avoid the area," I reply.

"Mind filling me in on why you think one of the most loyal longtime members of the Ylissean Royal Council is actually a traitor who would sell out his own Exalt?" I can tell I'm treading on thin ice in this conversation.

"I take it Robin explained what I saw and what I made of it?" I ask.

"She did. And I find it equal parts difficult to believe and even if true, not sufficient to condemn the man. Just because we never officially closed the case on who betrayed us, that doesn't mean you can point the finger at the only man who isn't here to defend himself."

"That's not the only evidence there is! I _know_ he's the traitor, Chrom."

"I want to trust you, Randall. But this is beyond my willingness to accept at just your word. If you've got more evidence than you shared with Robin, by all means let's hear it. Because I don't take accusations of betrayal lightly. I didn't when Frederick was suspicious that it was you who was the traitor, nor do I now." I can't believe I let myself get tricked into sitting down. The way he's looking down at me from his standing position is classic intimidation. I was going to be an attorney; I should know this stuff!

Even so, I'm kind of stuck. I spoke without thinking. And worse, he's implicitly calling his decision to trust that _I'm_ not the traitor into question. I have to say something now. But there's nothing else I can really tell them without just lying, and I think they'll be able to tell if I try that.

Maybe it really is time to tell someone the truth.

No. Not like this. Not when it's being forced out of me by circumstance. Maybe I will want to tell the whole truth at some point, but I won't use it as a bludgeon to defend myself.

"Chrom, I know this won't be what you want to hear. But there are things I can't talk about. Things I know that have been secret for a long time and must continue to be so. I know he's the one who betrayed us, but my evidence is within the scope of things I just can't talk about right now. I have to ask you to just trust me. It's not fair for me to put that on our leader like that, I know, but it's all I have. I've never done anything to undermine the Shepherds before, and I never will. You said yourself that you don't believe I could be a traitor. I'm not asking you to arrest his family. I'm just asking that we avoid any place he might have unlimited access to until after the war, when we can properly investigate. With me, there's nothing to investigate outside of myself and my actions. I have no history in this land, no property, no ties outside you all. But he's been around for a long while, and there are things to look into."

He continues to glare at me from above. "Just the other week I had it out with the khans because they didn't like the trust I was placing in my Shepherds. The last thing I want is to prove them right by failing to trust in you just because you're telling me something I don't want to hear. But I want your solemn word. Are you lying to me, Randall?"

I shake my head. "I'm not lying. I'm telling you everything that I think it's safe to tell you. Nothing more or less."

He watches my face for any signs of faltering, but I don't give him any. "Fine. I'm going to tell the scouts to change their destination before they leave for the wrong place, then."

"Okay. Thanks, Chrom," I say, a bit of a stutter finally creeping into my voice as I let out a long, relieved breath. He leaves and closes the door firmly behind him.

God, and I thought the silence with Cordelia the other day was unbearable.

"So, wanna tell me what that was all about?" Robin asks at last.

"Would that I could tell you," I sigh.

"Well, why not? What's so catastrophic a secret that you can't even let _me_ know? We've already got our share of secrets, don't we?"

"Yeah, but this is different. This is something I haven't told anyone at all, and I never really intended to."

"What could it possibly be? Are you a former murderer or something?"

"No! It's nothing like that. It's… I dunno, Robin, I wouldn't even know where to begin."

"Is this what's been eating at you for a while now? It seems like there's been something you've been desperate to spit out."

"I mean, yeah. I don't like having to keep such a big secret. It eats at me. I want to feel like I'm one of the Shepherds, like I'm just like everyone else. But I'm not, and I'm afraid I never can be. It's that big of a deal."

"Randall, you're kinda freaking me out. Just tell me what's up," Robin pleads.

I don't want to meet her eye when she's looking at me like that. I end up looking at the tabletop instead. "I'm scared. I don't want to become an outsider forever, but I feel like I'm only welcome here because people don't know how different I really am."

"Look. I can't speak for everyone else. And you know I've always felt like an outsider to this group. If anything, it's thanks in part to you that I became as integrated as I did. You're part of the Shepherds, Randall. And even if your secret is as bad as you make it sound, I'm only asking you to tell me. You can trust me, even if you don't want to trust everyone else yet. And we've already got dirt on each other, so you know I don't have any reason to out you in any way."

She's right. I know she's right. And I've put this off for far too long.

"And you're sure?"

"Look at me." I do. The last time she looked this serious was when we mutually confessed our power to each other. "I'm absolutely sure. Tell me what's going on."

"Alright. I want you to trust me, okay? So I want you to know, before I say anything else, that nothing I am about to tell you is a lie. Okay?"

She nods. I take a deep breath.

"I'm not from around here. Like, _really_ not from around here. Not from this world, I mean. I'm from a planet called Earth."

"...This planet is called Earth, Randall," Robin says.

"A different Earth. A really different one. One without Ylisse, or Plegia, or Ferox, or Valm. Or magic, or dragons, or naturally-occurring blue hair. One with incredible technology that you, that everyone in this world, would lose their minds to observe. With radically different cultures, different history, and from what I can tell, a lot more people.

"I'm from a country called the United States of America. It's a young country, relatively speaking. When I left, it was only around 250 years old. It's a republic, which means it's governed by elected officials that the public votes on, and they cycle in and out. Most of the countries in my time had systems at least kind of like that. We'd mostly done away with monarchies and other hereditary rule-based systems. I could talk your ear off about that, but I'll let that wait for now.

"I have a family. Parents, siblings, all still alive and happy, last I checked. I grew up in a happy, steady home, and I've been a student all my life. I was going to go to law school before I ended up here. That stuff I told everyone about being a wanderer all my life was bullshit. I was driving home from college for the summer one minute, and the next thing I really remember, I was waking up in a bar in Southtown, minutes before it got invaded by those Plegians and I met you all.

"Knowing that, you'd think I'd have been more freaked out after ending up here. But the fact is, I wasn't. And this is the part that's important: I've seen this world before. In my Earth, we have an already vast and ever-growing stockpile of stories from every culture in the world, and even worlds that aren't ours. The story of the Shepherds, if you can believe it, was one of them. The story of this very war was one of them. Now, we've gone impossibly far off-script by now, but back when we were at Breakneck, we really hadn't yet. So I know for a fact that Aventine is a traitor because I've seen it with my own eyes before. If I hadn't tipped him off to my knowledge and caused him to run off, you all would have watched as he would have asked that Vasto guy to take him safely to Plegia as per his prior arrangement with them, and Vasto would've killed the coward on the spot just out of spite. It was only my intervention at an idiotic moment that prevented this from being an open-and-shut case.

"And Emmeryn. In the story I knew, she was meant to die at Golgotha. She says her piece, then sacrifices herself to save the Shepherds and the Emblem, as well as dissuading the Plegians from further fighting. And it works. By now, according to the script, almost all of the Plegian military should have abandoned Gangrel by now, and we'd be going back to Plegia to cut him down and end the war. But I wanted to save her. And I think you were right; her survival must have been made known to the Plegians at large. That's why there's still so many that support Gangrel. So even though I tried to help, I can't help but think that maybe I just fucked everything up all the more. Frederick's paralysis shouldn't have happened either. That's another consequence of my mistakes. General Mustafa was supposed to die too, but I prevented that as well.

"And now we're so wildly off-script that I don't know what's going on anymore. From this point forward, I'm as lost as anyone."

There's a moment of silence.

"So yeah," I say after a nervous cough.

Robin finally speaks. "You know, in a way, as crazy as all this sounds, it doesn't… not make sense. It certainly answers a lot of my questions. It explains why you knew what Lissa's name was in our very first run at Southtown. It explains all the strangeness about Aventine's disappearance. It explains why you let Emmeryn fall before Rescuing her, so that she could still make her speech and try to pacify the Plegians. It explains a lot of things really neatly, actually. Not that it doesn't raise a hundred times more questions than answers."

Robin and I sit silently for a minute while the gravity of what I've just told her settles in. This is it. Can I still be a human to her, or is this where I lose that forever?

"Gods, I have so many questions. Where do I even start?"

"That's what I was saying. I don't know how to have this conversation at all. I will say this, though. Don't take this the wrong way, but there are some things about this world that I don't think I'll be sharing at this point. Even the survival of one woman has thrown things off so much. I'm going to be more careful from here on about how much departure from canon I plan to allow," I say.

She nods. "I understand. Do you mind if I ask something about this world anyway?"

"Sure."

"What do you know about me? Like, the stuff that I don't know."

Oh God. Would it be smart to tell her about Grima? About Validar?

"Well, for starters, it's worth mentioning that you're an amnesiac in my world's version of this story," I say.

"Not surprising, I suppose. What else?"

"Well, from what Tharja's told you, I'm sure you're aware that you're a Plegian."

"Mmhmm."

"And being that she was in with the Grimleal, you're obviously a former Grimleal as well."

"Right."

"I don't know a thing about your mom except that she loved you. Loved you enough to get you out of that crazy cult. As for your dad…"

"Is this one of those things you can't tell me?"

"I guess not. He's the leader of the Grimleal, Validar."

"I see. Honestly, that's not… terribly surprising, I suppose. Why did my mother want to leave?"

"You know that mark on your hand?"

"Yeah, what did Tharja call it? The Brand of the Defile?" She holds up her hand to inspect the mark.

"That's the one. It marks you as Grima's vessel. Your dad planned to use your body as a means for Grima to return to the work and, I dunno, annihilate it? I have no idea why your dad wanted that, but I guess everyone needs a hobby. Your mom decided she didn't want her kid to be consigned to a fate like that, so she got the heck out of there, with you in tow."

She takes a little longer to take that one in. "That all makes sense. Where is she now? Is she dead?"

"No idea. She never comes up again."

"I see. Do you know why or how I lost my memory?"

I don't think anyone in the Shepherds is ready to learn about time travel bullshit yet. "That's a spoiler, sorry. I can't talk about that one just yet."

Her eyelid twitches, but she quickly calms herself. "I see. But you do know?"

"Kind of? It was a pretty poor explanation, as I recall, but it was an explanation."

"And you'll be able to tell me at some point later on?"

"Yeah, for sure. I just don't want to mess things up by proliferating too much information too carelessly, you know?"

She pouts. "Fine. But I'm holding you to that."

"Fair enough." The fact that she's not actively angry with me is already really encouraging, honestly. I can handle a lightly frustrated pout.

She sighs. "Anyway, I have a lot more questions, not least of which are about your world, but I do want to stay as focused as possible on the battle ahead. Let's talk more about… all this, later, alright?"

"I think that would be awesome, actually," I say, finally allowing myself to breathe normally. "And I guess I want to check now that it's out there: I'm still a person to you?"

She shrugs. "As much as you ever were, I guess. I've always thought you were a weirdo. So that's not changing. Now there's just a better explanation for a lot of it."

I sigh in relief. "Yeah, that seems about right."

God, that was not a conversation I woke up thinking I was going to have today. I need a break.

* * *

" _Oh, good to see you, Gangrel. How are you today?" Mustafa asks as Gangrel enters his cell in the dungeon._

" _Shut your mouth unless it's to answer my questions," Gangrel snaps immediately. "Are you prepared to tell me what I want to know?"_

" _I think we both know the answer to that, Gangrel. I won't be selling out my family just to have the privilege of dying alongside them later. I'm under no illusion that you have any intention of letting me leave here alive."_

 _Gangrel draws his sword. "Perhaps I should kill you here and now, then."_

 _If Mustafa weren't still bound to the rack, he would shrug. "That is what you promised, after all. If you think it will help you."_

 _Gangrel grits his teeth as he glowers at his obstinate prisoner. "I have never in my life had such a difficult person in confinement, and considering the volume of souls interred in these walls, that's saying something."_

 _Mustafa smiles. "I suppose I should be honored, then."_

 _Gangrel points the Levin sword threateningly at the general's face. "Don't force this on me, Mustafa. Don't think me so absent-minded that I've forgotten the kindnesses you did me when I first took the throne. You helped me then. You can still help me now. Don't you see that I'm fighting for our people? The people who suffered, died, and lost everything in the wake of Gideon's bloodlust must be avenged!"_

 _Mustafa shakes his head solemnly. "No, Gangrel. No they don't. No one needs to be avenged."_

" _How can you say such a thing? You, who felt every stinging pain imaginable in that war!"_

" _That's how. I know what vendetta does. Where this path leads."_

" _I'm bound by the will of the people, Mustafa! My choice has been made for me! But yours hasn't. You still have a chance to save yourself." Mustafa can see the tip of the blade shaking in his face._

 _His heart breaks for the boy. If Gangrel kills him, he fears it might break the unstable mind of the king. But even so, his duty is to his family before any other man._

" _The only one with the power to preserve or destroy my life is you, Gangrel. Surely you see that from where you stand," Mustafa says calmly._

 _Electricity crackles in Gangrel's blade. The general doesn't flinch._

* * *

Chrom may not have been happy about the decision to give Aventine's home a pass at the time, but I'm pretty sure even his sullenness melted at the sight of Sumia's face when she saw that her family's home has been left more or less untouched by the war so far. I've never seen someone smile that brightly before. Almost hurt my eyes to look at.

The place is, in a word, idyllic. It's situated near the border of the Wolf Forest, with thick and lovely trees hugging the west side of the property, while the east side has an open, slightly slanted meadow that reaches down to the small farming village in the east. Most of the farmers' fields are farther north, while the south side of the property has a few narrower streets — one from the manor and one from the village center — that connect to a larger road some distance away that leads toward the main trade arteries of the country. Along the northeast end of the property runs the Plemenit River, from which the grain mill is run and where the village and the manor both get their supply of water.

The manor itself is about what I expected. Regal brick towers flank an impressive main body, where the dining hall, kitchen, leisure areas, and bedrooms are located. The towers themselves also contain a number of guest bedrooms, as well as serving general storage purposes.

I notice a general lack of security personnel about, but that's what we were told to expect, since the Anchorage estate has never had a bandit problem, nor are they close enough to the Plegian border to have to worry about border raids. A few guards with spears mull about, and I notice one standing watch atop the south tower.

I feel an ache in my chest as I do my best not to think of Themis. This place is decidedly different, but I can't help but compare the two in my mind.

The first person from the Anchorage family to meet us is Sumia's sister Tricia, who as we approach the manor all but sprints out of the front door to leap into her big sister's open arms. The two of them giggle like children as Sumia picks her sister up, whirls her around for a moment, trips, and promptly collapses. The two don't miss a beat, continuing to laugh on the ground as they clumsily attempt to hug each other from their awkward and disjointed positions.

Tricia is the spitting image of her sister. Same grey hair, same dainty stature, just about the same haircut even, except hers is shorter than Sumia's. It's like looking through a time travel lens and seeing what Sumia would look like minus a decade.

"I'm so glad to see you, Sumia! You have to tell me everything about your adventures!" Tricia exclaims. Now that's a word none of us have heard in a while. Adventure. The war really hasn't hit this area hard, huh?

"Of course, sis. But first we gotta take care of some resupplying. I think Mom and Dad should be expecting us. We sent a messenger ahead of us," Sumia says as she gets to her feet.

"Yeah, I heard them talking about it. Come on!" Tricia hops to her feet and pulls her sister by the hand to rush her inside. The rest of us follow suit.

Things quickly turn to a flurry of movement as Robin (and to a lesser extent, Chrom) quickly begin to direct people to go to X-place and get Y-number of Z-item and load them up into the wagons. Most of us end up forming essentially tower raiding parties, storming up and down the spiral staircases with crates and barrels in hand and desperately hoping not to trip and kill ourselves in our haste. I barely have time to register what the interior of the manor actually looks like, as we're too busy rushing through it. It's about what you'd expect, though. Lots of nice decorations and trappings of the noble class. I see a particular coat of arms — a white horse's head facing left against a purple background — on a lot of stuff around, so I'm thinking that's probably the Anchorage family crest.

We arrived fairly late in the afternoon, so despite our rushing, we still don't get totally finished before dark. After some debate, Robin agrees that we can finish in the morning, which for me is a relief since I'm pretty much dead on my feet after running up and down the stairs for what feels like (and may actually have been) hours.

Several of the more important (i.e. wealthy) Shepherds get personally acquainted with the Anchorage parents, but for the destitute like me, we have to settle for getting a look from a moderate distance. Lord Anchorage looks kind of like a stereotypical 1700s well-to-do British gentleman, complete with a set of small, round spectacles and a fluffy mustache. He must be the parent with such strong grey hair genes, because though he still has all his hair, it's drab as a stormcloud. Lady Anchorage, on the other hand, looks remarkably young. She looks a lot like her daughters, except her straw-colored hair is pulled into an elegant bun, and her face is less gentle and more angular. The pair of them are dressed in fine clothes, Lord Anchorage in a charcoal suit and his wife in a wide-skirted burgundy dress. That's about all I see of them for the day, because as things start calming down, Libra approaches and taps me on the shoulder.

"Randall, are you ready to begin our daily session? Regrettably, we had to put it off until Robin decided to stop for the evening, but I would prefer not to miss a day. In truth, I've rather enjoyed getting back into the practice myself," he says.

"Oh, yeah, of course," I reply, even though I was really hoping to grab a bite to eat before anything else. But if nothing else, I've obtained at least a modicum of discipline from these daily meditations.

Time to find out if my body recognizes 'hunger' as an emotion, I guess.

* * *

"Randall, I must say, you've improved a great deal in the weeks we've been working on this technique," Libra says after probably half an hour. "I can tell that your focus has improved, as has your ability to manipulate your body without relying on emotion to do it. At this rate, you'll reach my level before too much longer."

"Thank you," I say, noting how strange it is to speak when I'm 'in the zone,' as I feel the air curl and whip around my throat and mouth as my phonators shift the air's movement to create sound waves that sound like the English language.

He gives a muffled 'hmph' of a laugh as he notices that I haven't stopped meditating even to listen to him. We continue for a while longer in silence.

After a while, he sits back and motions for me to do the same. "Excellent work today, Randall. Your commitment to mastering this technique continues to impress."

I allow myself a self-congratulatory smile. "I just want to be able to use dark magic without having to tip myself over the edge, that's all."

He nods. "Of course. From what Tharja has mentioned to me, it seems you're making solid strides toward perfecting that. Not that she sounded particularly pleased about it."

"So what made you want to develop this technique in the first place? Were you kind of in my situation, where you just wanted to avoid any mental degradation as a result of practicing your magic?" I ask.

"Well, not exactly. I wish I could say that's how it came about. Truth be told, when the previous war with Plegia was on, I was a member of Ylisse's military. By the time the war ended, I was perhaps nineteen or so, but by then I had already seen a great deal of combat as a dark mage for the Ylissean army. My talents were discovered early in the war, and in almost no time at all, I was enlisted. I had no parents, and I had grown up in rough circumstances, so there was no one to protect me from being pushed into combat. I was taken by the military and had a Flux thrust into my hands.

"I took to it immediately. I'm led to believe you had a similar intuitive talent when you first picked up a dark tome, yes?"

"Yeah, that's right."

"Then you know exactly what I'm talking about. That power is… intoxicating. And as a mere teenager, not yet mature enough to handle the burden of such magic unsupervised, I was… cheated of my youthful innocence. I came to crave battle. I delighted in violence. I reveled in bloodshed. I couldn't get enough. I was happy to fight in every battle until the war ended.

"And when the war ended, I didn't want to put the tome down. I was addicted. The magic had a grip on me, and I had no willpower to resist. With the dissolution of the military, I was suddenly jobless. I'm not proud of this, and I will spend my entire life atoning for it, but… I resorted to highway robbery. I was not prone to leaving survivors. It was fun, high risk, high reward work. If I hadn't been found by the man who became my mentor, I might still be doing that today, if not dead in a ditch somewhere.

"But find me he did. A priest of Naga, and traveling minister for the poor and sick after the war had left the land destitute. He was blessed with the resistance to magic that many who are attuned to healing magic possess, and as a result I failed to kill him. He was quick to incapacitate me, and when I woke, I found myself with my wrists tied, sitting in a tent. I thought it was surely the end for me.

"However, he showed me compassion, and perhaps even more importantly, he showed me mercy. The second chance that I didn't even know I needed was handed to me. He was quick to unbind me, but kept my tomes away from me, hidden away somewhere I couldn't access. I suffered without my tomes. I felt naked, at least at first. But slowly, surely, he showed me that I could use a different kind of magic. The magic of healing. Of empathy. Of not indulging in emotions that direct inward, but rather outward. Love, compassion, and the desire to help and to heal became the new cornerstones of my emotional being. Along with unlocking my talents with the staff, he also showed me the light of Naga's grace. For the first time in my life, I felt as though I belonged to someone.

"After a few months of his tutelage, he offered me my dark magic tomes back. I only took them for long enough to study them, and then to burn them. I swore I would never again indulge in dark magic, and to this day I have kept my word. I pored over them in an effort to understand their magical mechanics, and as you know, I made great strides. I developed this technique as a penance for my years of sin and destruction. In point of fact, you are the only person who has ever actually used this technique. I only ever had a theoretical authority on it. So as you can imagine, I'm glad to see it working for you. And now here we are."

Good God, what a story. I don't even know how to respond. Is this how Robin felt the other day when I dropped my big truth bomb on her? I feel like I'm only just now seeing Libra for the first time. Have his eyes always looked so tired?

"And the priest of Naga? Where is he?" I ask.

Libra bows his head. "Passed quietly in his sleep, a little over three years ago. We enjoyed about five years together as brothers in priesthood after my ordination. As much as I wish he were here now to aid us, I am glad he has already gone to his eternal rest and never needs to see such war and death again."

"No kidding. It sounds like he went above and beyond to earn that rest," I reply.

He smiles. "Indeed. I tell you this now, in part to congratulate you for being the first person to use this technique in real life, and in part as a warning. Dark magic has a will. It wants to ensnare you, as it has thousands, perhaps millions of others in the past. As it ensnared me. If you intend to keep relying on its power, you _must_ be the one in control."

"I understand. I don't ever want to repeat what happened at Lake Medeus again," I say. I realize as I say this how similar Libra and I are. Now that I've heard his story, it's clear why he saw himself in me. Or maybe more specifically, he saw the potential in me to become like he was, and he did everything he could to prevent that. From everything I've seen, heard, and experienced with dark magic, it's clear that I have a lot to thank him for.

And as I sit here with him, remembering what he said he wants to do with his life, I think I know how. "Hey Libra, I've been thinking about something else too. You know that orphanage you said you wanted to open when peace finally returns to Ylisse?"

His eyes light up like firecrackers. "Yes?" he says, barely containing his preemptive glee.

"I'd like to join you in making that happen. I haven't really had a plan for myself outside of fighting this war until now, and it would be nice to know that I have a dream to work on when the violence finally comes to a close," I say with a smile.

He all but leaps to his feet, prompting me to stand as well. "Oh, Randall, do you mean it? You aren't merely agreeing to join because I pressured you, or because you feel indebted to me, are you?"

I shake my head. "Of course not! Until now, I've felt kind of directionless. Like outside of the war, there wasn't anything for me here. But you've made me think about everything else I could be. Other ways to help a world that has so much need. And whether you've had a bad past or not, the man you are today is someone worth rallying behind. I'd be honored to join you."

He sort of dances in place for a moment. I realize that he's physically fighting the urge to embrace me. I decide to take the first step and open my arms to him, and he accepts the hug gratefully.

"Forgive my emotional reaction, please. I'm just so glad to see you turning out so much better than I did. And to have you want to join me in serving the children of Naga who have lost so much, it's… it's almost too much for me," he says breathlessly.

I've never felt so appreciated in my life. I feel myself getting a little verklempt as well. We both take a quick minute to hug it out before we trust ourselves to speak again.

"Such an undignified display we made," Libra laughs.

"After all the shit we've seen and all the work we've put in to get this far, we've earned a touch of indignity, don't you think?" I reply.

"When you put it like that, it's difficult to disagree," he says, then takes a deep breath and smooths out his newly-untidied hair. "Well, Randall, we're going to have a lot of work to do. For now, though, what say we get some supper? All the meditation, followed by such an emotionally vulnerable moment, has left me famished."

"Now you're speaking my language, boss."

* * *

" _Well now, wasn't that heartwarming?"_

" _God damnit, what do you want now?"_

" _The same thing I've always wanted, Mister Randall."_

" _It seems like all you've ever wanted is to knock me down a few pegs, Not-Mindy."_

" _Ooh, that stings. But surely you don't think you're doing this to yourself for nothing."_

" _Really? Because it seems like whenever I'm at my highest, you take a swing, and when I'm at my lowest, you take a kick. You'll come at me any time."_

" _You haven't thought enough about what I am and why you're hanging onto me."_

" _Oh, am I the one hanging onto you? Or is it you that won't leave me alone?"_

" _One and the same. I'm everything you'd like to think is separate from you."_

" _You told me once that I'm not asking the right questions. What are the right questions?"_

" _You tell me."_

" _What are you?"_

" _I'm the parts of you that you won't let yourself look at."_

" _Why do you look like Mindy, then?"_

" _Because of what you did to her."_

" _What did I do to her?"_

" _And there it is. Finally you're asking the right questions."_

" _Well? What did I do to her?"_

" _I only know what you allow yourself to remember. So you tell me."_

" _I don't know! I don't remember doing anything bad! Did I?"_

" _Have fun working that out."_

" _No, hang on! You've gotta help me! What did I do? Please, tell me! Come back! Tell me!"_

* * *

I wake up, more tired than I was when I went to sleep. Fucking hell.

Oh well. Might as well go for a walk.

I pull on my robes to fend off the cold and sleepy-stumble down the spiral staircase of the south tower. The guard by the front door nods at me politely as I leave the building and head out to the yard. Despite the biting breeze blowing through, the night is clear and the stars are out. I think about the last time I took the time to really observe them, back before our ill-fated trip to Breakneck Pass. The outing with Robin that replaced the would-be date I wanted to take Maribelle on.

It was about that time that my nightmares about Mindy started. Why? What changed during that time about me that created the painful visions I've been seeing in the night? As I contemplate this, I walk around the back side of the manor and venture into the woods a bit, where most of the Feroxi forces have set up camp (being a member of the Shepherds has its perks, like being allowed to sleep inside). Being in the woods is comforting for me. I grew up around woods, and tall trees surrounded my childhood home. As a young kid, they had kind of scared me, but as I came into adolescence, it was comforting to be insulated by the sights and sounds of nature. To take a walk among such familiar trees puts my mind more at ease.

When I think about my mindset back then, when I first came to this world, it was more childish. It was really only after a few months that I started to take my life in this world seriously. My failure at Breakneck showed me that I wasn't living in the game I thought I was. That I had to commit to my life in this world. I allowed myself to open up to my friends and came to see them as the people they are.

That has to be the root of these nightmares, doesn't it? Something about my transition from the old, blasé me into someone who takes this world seriously was marked by the emergence of these nightmares. There's something I'm missing. Something I'm not approaching right, or something I'm too afraid to confront. But what? I'm doing my best, but I can't think right.

These are the things I'm thinking about just before I nearly take an arrow to the head.

* * *

 **A/N: So, the Big Truth comes out at last. What will this mean for our heroes? Noooobody knows (but me)~**

 **So the thing with this chapter is that for the first time in a while, I actually cranked it out really quickly. Like, in the space of five or so days. The rest of the time with this process has been the chapter sitting in the incubator and getting occasionally prodded by me until I decide I'm driving myself insane wondering about whether X or Y will work or come across right. In situations like this, I value my beta reader Mixed Valence more than ever, because having a second voice in the mix to tell me either "yeah, actually that could use work" or "stop being a baby, this scene's good, just let it go already" is at its most valuable when I give myself too much time to second guess everything. So yeah. MV gets big props this time around, because the most important scene in this chapter is just as much his brain child as it is mine. So check out Earthborne, ya goons. And here is your Mixed Valence out of context quote of the week: "Back in the lab I used to work in, we had '200 proof ethanol, molecular cloning grade,' that's the good shit."**

 **I've already gotten a tiny headstart on the next chapter, so hopefully I can put out another one in fairly short order. Things are finally heating up in the story, and I can finally pull a few other plugs I've been dying to get to, so stay tuned!**

 **As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**


	31. Ch 31: Take Me Home, Country Wyvern

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 31: Take Me Home, Country Wyvern**

 _Aventine's hand shakes as he reads the missive his scout has just handed him._

" _N-no. This isn't right. Why would he do this? And so soon after his arrest was announced? If he wanted to draw us out, wouldn't he give us more time to act? This… doesn't make any sense," he says, more to himself than anyone else._

" _I am sorry, milord. But these fliers were distributed all through the capital, and they've started to circulate more widely. They appear to be legitimate," the scout replies solemnly._

 _The door to the sitting room opens, and Octavia steps in. However, seeing Aventine's face gives her pause, and she stops near the doorway. She asks, "Aventine? What's the matter?" He doesn't reply. "What's that?" She points to the paper in his still-shaking hand._

 _What could he possibly tell her? He can barely bring himself to open his mouth at all against the quivering of his chin._

" _Aventine… Please, tell me what that is," Octavia says, looking as though that paper is actually the last thing she wants to see._

" _O-Octavia," Aventine murmurs. "From the capital. News. About M-Mustafa…"_

 _Octavia puts it together. She makes it as far as the nearest chair before her legs quit supporting her. "Please, no."_

 _Tears claw their way out of the old man's eyes. "I… I'm sorry. I should have made him come with us. I know I could have convinced him. If I'd only been more brave. I'm so sorry, Octavia."_

 _His apology falls on mostly deaf ears, as Octavia too has begun to weep. Though they had both done their best to prepare themselves for this possibility, to see it written plainly in front of them still proves too much. The scout politely bows out of the room to allow his lord and Mustafa's wife time and space to grieve._

* * *

I allow myself a microsecond to check that yes, I narrowly managed not to shit myself. Have the Plegians already found us? How is that possible? I guess it's not unreasonable that a fairly wealthy estate could be attacked by the enemy, but there's no way that's all this is. Most of the Feroxi forces were well-hidden in the woods and shouldn't have been conspicuous to anyone who didn't already know to look for them. It all seems too convenient that this place would be getting ambushed the one day that we're here.

Someone leaked something. Son of a bitch, maybe we really do have a traitor in our midst like the khans feared.

Whatever, you can worry about that later, the first thing to do is not die if you can avoid it. I consider just giving myself the knife and taking the respawn, but there's no guarantee that Robin's awake, which means it's too dangerous for me to die just yet. I have to see Robin with my own eyes before I'm confident enough to let myself die.

It seems we're being attacked from the west, so they're coming out of the Wolf Forest. That makes it difficult to tell how many there are, who's in charge, or what they came to play with.

Fortunately, it seems the Feroxi have been quick to realize there's an ambush going on, so our side is rapidly mobilizing to take the fight to the enemy. This is especially helpful because I have neither my staff nor my tome with me, which means I'm pretty much useless until I can get back to the manor. I have my Feroxi knife, but that's a last resort weapon for sure. That means, unfortunately, my job right now is to _run_.

And so I do. I duck and weave between packs of Feroxi, all the while shouting things like "I'm a Shepherd!" and "I'm unarmed!" and "Please don't cleave my head in half!" Fortunately, it seems I look just harmless enough that no Feroxi take a swing at me.

God, why did I walk this far into the forest?

I'm forced to dive for cover when someone fires an Elfire blast in my direction. So they've got mages. Great. Though the Elfire misses me, it damages a nearby tree enough that it starts tipping over as its trunk burns out. As it collapses against a couple other trees, the fire spreads from one tree to another, lighting up the trio. Meanwhile, I'm scrambling to my feet and trying to loop around the trees so I'm not in danger of any falling limbs.

A roar from far above me confirms another fact about the enemy: they've got wyvern riders. They're not flying among the trees, so I don't have to worry about them just yet, but to get back to the manor I'll have to get past them.

Meanwhile, it seems like the Plegians are busting through the Feroxi lines, at least enough that their destruction of the forest is proceeding unabated. Fire and lightning continue to rain down on the trees, creating a massive forest fire and turning the whole place into an inferno. The growing fire greedily sucks the oxygen from the surrounding air and makes it thin and difficult to breathe. Meanwhile, the archers that nearly hit me before continue to fire on the Feroxi troops, who are in turn doing their best to combat the mages.

I gasp in pain as I feel the full force of an Elfire blast hit my back. Despite my resistance keeping the blast from doing me in outright, it's still no joke to take a direct hit like that. Additionally, it sets my robes aflame, and I'm forced to rip them from my body and throw them to the ground. Fortunately, I manage to slip the knife out of its sheath before it goes with the rest. Whoever threw the blast at me isn't keeping up the attack, so hopefully that means a Feroxi got ahold of him.

In any case, I'm almost to the edge of the forest. Now comes the hard part. Hopefully my dark underclothes will make me difficult to see from above. I make a break for it.

As I get clear of the forest, I look around as I run to get a sense of what's going on. It seems we aren't only being attacked from the west, but the south as well. A massive force is moving north up the road, with many of them diverting east to sack the village but the bulk of them heading for the manor itself.

However, it's good to see that the manor itself appears to be abuzz with movement as the Shepherds inside prepare to fight the enemy. At the very least they're not being caught totally off-guard.

Not that it's exactly gonna help me much out here. Fucking hell, they're gonna reach the manor before I do. What the hell am I meant to do now? Just hunker down somewhere and hope I'm not seen? Kill a guy with my knife and take his weapon to use on his buddies? Somehow I think that sort of Breath of the Wild shit doesn't work in real life.

Shit, I've been seen. Looks like my choice has been made for me. A few of the Plegians break away from the pack to charge at me. A lancer and two mercs, by the look of them, though with only the light of the burning forest and the stars above to help me it's a little hard to tell. I tighten my grip on my knife.

In their haste to shed some blood, they allow themselves to break formation, and one of the mercs reaches me before his allies. Dodge that swing! Dodge the next! Back up, back up, okay, this isn't working. At this rate I'll be cut to ribbons before I can even think of getting my own knife in range to attack. I turn and start to flee, only to smash headlong into a Feroxi soldier fleeing the other way. As we fall to the ground, he drops his hatchet in the grass. The merc pursuing me most heavily apparently decides the Feroxi is a bigger threat, as he ignores me to take a stab at the poor guy while he's reaching for the fallen axe.

Soon, though, I know I'll be the target again. I pick up the guy's hatchet myself and cock my shoulder back.

Out of curiosity, did you ever see Hostel? Just wondering.

I take a swing at the back of the merc's leg, hitting him just above the heel. The guy instantly screams in agony and collapses to the ground. Now, just like you've been practicing. Separate the physicality from the emotion. Allow your body to be furious, but don't let your mind give way. I grip my knife and plunge it into his throat.

By now the other two are almost on me. I wrestle the sword from the gurgling merc's hand and scramble to my feet just in time to bat aside the stab aimed at my face from the lancer.

I'm about to have to have a two-on-one fight against two trained soldiers while wielding an unfamiliar weapon. I'm straight boned.

Even so, a guy's gotta try. I focus first on positioning, not allowing myself to get surrounded and sidestepping any attempts to corral me into a corner where I'll have to take attacks from two directions. Most of the rest of my effort is being spent on blocking their strikes. I'm not able to find any openings to attack either of them, leaving me completely on the defensive. Without some kind of shift in the fight, I'm not going to last much longer at this rate.

A lightning bolt from the sky striking the lancer will do nicely, thank you. A quick glance up reveals that either Sumia or Cordelia must have managed to take to the sky and unleash a timely blast of Thunder to save my ass. Seems like that training they've been doing with Robin has paid off. The lancer seizes up and collapses to the ground, leaving only the other merc to contend with. Meanwhile, the pegasus rider who came to my rescue (it's still too dark to see who it is) has moved on to the main group charging the manor, and she hurls spells at them from a safe distance.

A wide and conspicuous swing that I only narrowly duck from my remaining opponent refocuses my attention on him. Even just in a one-on-one setting, it becomes rapidly apparent who's been training for years with the sword and who has held swords for a grand total of a few minutes since he came to this world. To say he's got me on my back foot would be an understatement.

A botched block of one of his swipes sends his blade into my forearm, giving it a deep cut and drawing a yelp of pain out of me. It also severely compromises my ability to hold my sword properly, forcing me to switch it to my right hand. Now _this_ is not going to go well.

I step back as quickly as possible, but end up tripping on the body of the lancer on the ground and falling on my back. The merc is closing the gap rapidly and is about to deal the final blow. In an act of desperation, I throw the sword in my hand at him, hoping to get a lucky blow and end the fight here. Unfortunately, the blade itself doesn't hit him at all. More fortunately, though, the hilt strikes him squarely between the eyes, making him clutch his face and cry in pain. I've bought myself a few seconds.

I spot the lance in the still-convulsing lancer's hand. Well, Robin has been trying to get me to learn, after all.

The lance enters the merc's chest just as he was getting ready to get back into the fight. He gasps futilely, gripping the shaft and trying with his rapidly waning strength to dislodge it. I do him the favor of pulling it out myself, and he falls to his side a couple seconds later.

So, that's one skirmish survived. Where the hell is Robin? Finding her is the next step. I start running toward the manor doors, lance still in hand but trying to avoid drawing anyone's eye.

A bolt of lightning shot from the ground catches my eye as I approach the corner of the manor's south tower. A flash in the sky confirms that it hit its target: the pegasus rider who saved my skin just a couple minutes ago. The pegasus lopsidedly spirals to the ground, landing about a hundred and fifty yards southeast of the manor.

While the bulk of the soldiers continue to press on toward the manor, I see the silhouette of one person break from the pack and start toward the fallen rider. Looks like whoever shot her down is looking to finish the job.

Not if I have anything to say about it.

Keeping my head down and diverting south to loop around the invaders, I run as fast as possible to close the gap as quickly as I can. Mercifully, no one notices me as I slip behind them and all but sprint toward the faint white shape of the collapsed and immobile pegasus in the field.

As I get closer, I can make out the pained crying of the one who fell. That's Cordelia, for sure. And now in this open field I can see who's the one going after her as well.

What the hell is Gangrel doing here? Before I can begin to piece together why he might be here himself, he raises his Levin sword and fires a bolt at Hyperion's face. The pegasus' head collapses to the ground.

"Hyperion!" Cordelia cries, shaking his shoulder desperately with one hand while holding the other arm (significantly bent out of place) close to her chest. Looks like she's taken some serious damage from the fall as well. After a second, though, she remembers herself and leaps off her mount, scooping up her lance off the ground with her working arm and pointing it at Gangrel. "You monster!"

"Hah! I've been called worse by people who mattered more," Gangrel spits, brandishing his sword at her in turn.

He still doesn't see me. This is my chance. I approach as quietly as possible, then attempt a stab at his heart from behind. However, with alarming speed he sidesteps and bats my jab aside, sending a painful shock down the lance and up my arm as well.

"What, did you think you were being stealthy? I heard your approach from a hundred yards away," he sneers.

"Randall! What are you doing here? Get back inside!" Cordelia shouts, beginning to sidestep around Gangrel to try and get between me and him.

"No can do, I'm afraid," I reply, preparing to deflect his next attack while I also step closer to Cordelia to get between _her_ and him. "You're injured and need to get the hell outta here, right now."

"I could tell you the same thing," she fires back. I don't have a reply ready.

Not that it matters, because Gangrel seems content to fight both of us. He springs forward, sword flashing, and I manage to hit his blade aside, though the electricity seizes up my arm something fierce for a split second afterward. Fortunately, Cordelia is there to close the gap and pick up my slack, jabbing remarkably precisely for a fighter with one working arm. Even so, her strength is pretty much halved, and Gangrel has the upper hand. I try stabbing him myself, but quick as a flash he hits Cordelia's lance into mine, shocking both of us and making Cordelia lose her grip on her lance, leaving her defenseless.

Now most fighters would switch their focus to the one who's still armed because they're still a threat, but I think Gangrel's figured out I'm nothing special with a lance compared to his skill with the blade, so he decides to go after Cordelia instead. This means I have to play defense for two people now, with Cordelia backing up frantically and Gangrel pursuing her, and I'm barely managing to hold him off her.

"Run, God damnit!" I shout at her as I attempt a stab for his leg that he effortlessly swats aside. I'm going to lose this. I need to start preparing for the possibility of a second run. "Where's Robin?"

"I don't know! I never saw her! And I'm not running!" Cordelia replies, even though Gangrel is being careful to stand between her and her fallen lance, making it impossible for her to get it and rejoin the fight.

Gangrel's eyes glint in the moonlight as he charges at me and scores a hit on my right shoulder, clipping the flesh something awful. It's all I can do not to drop the lance right there, especially when the shock from the sword accompanies the cut. Robin or no, I think the end of this run is rushing to meet me. Gangrel raises his sword above his shoulder.

"Oh no you don't!" I hear from the sky above us. Gangrel must hear it too, since he diverts his attention to the pegasus bearing down on him. He fires the bolt he prepared for me at Sumia instead, who thanks to her incredible skill in the saddle manages to narrowly dodge it. Still, it forces her to change course enough that instead of the killing blow she was aiming for, she has no choice but to pass overhead harmlessly.

She makes an impressively tight turn once she's passed us, but is forced to curve up to avoid a second shot from Gangrel. Looks like his attention is on her for the moment. Now's my chance. I stab at his heart, but he sees the movement just in time to leap back and only take a minor blow to the collarbone area instead. While Sumia gets back on course, he fires another bolt at me, and with Cordelia behind me, I have no choice but to take the hit. My chest seizes and tightens so much that I think my muscles are going to pull themselves right off their tendons.

"Sumia, no!" I hear Cordelia cry at first behind and then to the right of me. Fortunately, it seems Sumia has figured out that Gangrel is perfectly capable of fighting the two of us at once, so she's changed her plan and swooped in to grab Cordelia and pull her onto Kestrel's back. Less fortunately, there's no way her leaner pegasus can handle getting me up there as well. I have to hold out.

"I'll be back, Randall!" Sumia shouts over her shoulder as she flies the still-struggling Cordelia away from the fight.

I still can't catch my breath. Looks like this'll be it for this run. I raise my lance anyway, just in case I'm wrong. I still haven't seen Robin, after all, so I can't yet call it safe to die. I have to try to live for as long as I can.

"Looks like it's just you and me now, boy," Gangrel sneers. Oh, that's right. He's a gloater. Maybe I can buy myself some time that way. Sure as shit ain't gonna buy it actually fighting the guy.

"Well, that was what I wanted all along. Or did you miss the part where I was telling her to run?" I ask, my voice dripping with condescension.

He huffs, irritated. "You know, I don't like any Ylisseans, but you might be my least favorite of the lot. And trust me, that title is hard-earned."

"Oh my goodness, am I blushing?" I reply.

"I think it's time someone reminded you to show a little respect," he growls, shooting another bolt at my chest. Though I do my damndest to sidestep it, the blast still catches my arm, making me lose feeling in my hand and, by extension, my grip on the lance. Seeing the opening he's created, he wastes no time dashing forward and knocking the weapon out of the other hand as well, and it falls to the soil. He raises his sword to my throat.

This is it. I hope Robin's awake by now.

…

Any second now…

"Well? Are you gonna– oof!" Something huge and metal hits me in the back of the head, and my vision blurs as I fall to the ground beside my fallen lance.

Gangrel bends over me, as does the person in black armor now standing beside him.

"I think I'd like to take this one home with me. See to it that he's not dead by the time he gets there, so he can learn some manners first," Gangrel tells the guy who I'm now realizing just clocked me in the head with a gauntleted fist.

"Of course, Your Highness." He crouches down over me and slips off his helmet with one hand. "Remember me, priest?"

Well now, that's an unexpected sight.

"Oh, hey Vasto. Aren't you supposed to be dead?" I ask. The last thing I see is Vasto rolling his eyes before my vision fades completely.

* * *

 _Lucina hasn't felt this helpless in a long time. Despite her desperate desire to fight off the Plegians and drive them away from the manor, she knows for sure that she'd be overrun and killed if she tried. She can't so much as get inside to check on her father's safety when the doors are blocked with fire like that. She could pick off a few stray Plegians here and there, perhaps, but the risk of revealing her position outweighs the benefits that a few more corpses would provide right now._

 _But then, a flash of light shoots into the sky, far off from the other magic attacks coming from the manor or the forest. A single pegasus spirals down to the ground on the other side of the packs of Plegians storming the manor. It looked like it was falling slowly enough for that to be a survivable fall._

 _Finally, a way she can help. With practiced stealth, she blends into the shadows and stalks behind the Plegian horde to get around the enemy and closer to the fallen rider. She skirts just around the outside of the group to waste as little time as possible._

 _Unfortunately, she gets too greedy with trading stealth for efficiency, and a few Plegians spot her. If she stays to fight them, she's sure to only draw more attention. Instead, she diverts south down the road the bulk of the invasion force marched in on. They might have her outnumbered, but her speed far outmatches them, and it isn't long before she's lost her pursuers. However, getting away from them meant also putting a lot of distance between her and the fallen rider. She's lost a lot of time._

 _More carefully this time, she continues running toward where she saw the pegasus go down. At this point, the chance that the rider is still alright is quite slim, but it's the only thing she can do to help at this point, so she presses on regardless._

 _As she passes through a thin line of trees and opens her field of view to the area where the rider fell, she can see the curled white form of the unfortunate mount, lying motionless on the ground. She sees a couple silhouettes of people fighting, one with a lance and one with a flashing sword, likely a Levin sword._

 _Hold on… is that King Gangrel? He's here, now? On his own, out in the open?_

 _She quickens her pace, especially when she sees the lance fighter lose their weapon. She's not going to get there in time. She's not going to be fast enough._

 _A shadow swoops down from the sky and collides with the unarmed lancer. She stops running and reevaluates her situation as she realizes a wyvern rider has just landed on the scene. Despite Falchion's impressive ability to cleave dragon and wyvern flesh, the massive creatures still give her pause._

 _She watches warily as the rider slowly dismounts from the wyvern and… limps?... over to Gangrel and their victim. Is she too late? Has the pegasus rider already been killed?_

 _While she tries to carefully circle around the scene and get a look at who the fallen rider is and what became of them, the wyvern rider stands up, their victim slung over their shoulder. As the pair return to the wyvern, a beam of moonlight catches the face of the one being loaded onto the wyvern's saddle. That's Uncle Randy!_

 _She gasps, her hand flying to her face, but she quickly regains her composure. She has to stop them, now._

 _While the rider himself swings his leg over the wyvern's neck, she charges with a cry and attempts to stab the beast through the throat. As she does so, though, she is hit with an incredibly loud, bright flash that stops her in her tracks and seizes up her muscles enough that her attack is rendered powerless. So this is the power of a Levin sword in the hands of a trained professional._

 _She's unable to do anything but watch as the wyvern takes Randall (or his body?) into the air and off to the southwest. Toward Plegia._

 _But now, she has to focus on herself and her survival. Gangrel takes another swing at her, which she is forced to jump back to avoid._

" _Oh, I remember you. You're with the Shepherds, aren't you?" Gangrel sneers as he takes another swing and follows it up with a blast of lightning, forcing Lucina to both duck and then dive to avoid the onslaught. "You haven't offended my sensibilities the way that mouthy priest has, though, so you may have the gift of a quick death. Come and accept my gift!"_

 _She scrambles to her feet, breathing heavily as she watches his eyes carefully to look for tells about his next move. If she can defeat him now, the war could lose a great deal of fervor on both sides._

 _Easier said than done. She hadn't heard many stories about who Gangrel was as a person, let alone what sort of fighter he was, but it's clear that he's seen his share of battlefields. He's a formidable whirlwind of steel and lightning, and it takes all her focus to avoid both the blade and its magic. He must be a skilled mage as well as a skilled swordsman to have magical attacks this potent._

 _Even so, she received the training of some of the world's best bladesmen in her youth. Her father trained her while he could, and even after his death, Uncle Lon'qu, Frederick, and Gregor had each taken some time with her to confer their skills. Thanks to their combined efforts, teenager though she was, the most powerful skill of the Exalted family line came into her repertoire. And now seems as good a time as any to use it._

 _She focuses her energy around Falchion's blade in her hand, and she feels the blade quietly hum in response. The angle is everything when inflicting a Sol attack, so as to tap into the enemy's ambient magic and steal their life force. Wait for an opening… there!_

 _Gangrel overreaches to try and catch her with a bolt of lightning, leaving his sword too far from his body to defend him properly. She ducks under the attack and scores a major diagonal blow from his lower chest across his abdomen. As she does so, she feels the energy travel across the blade and through her arm, warming her chest and filling her with vigor._

 _And now. Just like Father and Frederick taught you. She leaps back, preparing to capitalize on his moment of weakness and complete the Aether with a Luna strike while he's still reeling. She leaps forward, preparing to impale the king on Falchion's blade and end this conflict._

 _Except when she charges through, her blade finds only air waiting for it. Even grimly wounded, Gangrel proves agile enough to sidestep her attack. He growls through gritted teeth, one hand essentially holding his sliced abdomen together as he hobbles away from her, firing haphazard bolts of lightning behind him to hold her off._

 _Though Lucina immediately moves to pursue him, she is waylaid by a wyvern rider who dives down from the sky to catch her unawares. His axe only clips her shoulder, but in a second, he's already turned around in the air and coming back for her._

 _This time, she's ready for him. She ducks to avoid his axe, but as he passes overhead, she slips Falchion into the crook of the axe's blade and twists, yanking the axe out of his hand (and doing a number on her own arm in the process). He takes a few seconds longer to come around on the third pass, but in hand is a new axe, presumably an extra brought with him for just such an occasion._

 _As he flies in for another attack, Lucina raises her left arm, still holding his old axe, and throws it at him. Of course, as she's never been trained in axe-throwing, it doesn't really come close to hitting him, but it does alarm him enough to slightly divert his course and slow his wyvern down. Slow enough that Lucina can catch the beast in the wing with her scale-rending sword. The wyvern screeches and crashes to the ground behind her. The rider, his leg still trapped under the heavy wyvern's body, shouts in pain and panic. Lucina swiftly runs over to the fallen rider, slices his mount's neck with Falchion, and stabs him through the chest in the same motion._

 _Only when both rider and mount stop breathing does she allow herself to stop holding her own breath. The moment the fight is done, she whirls back toward the direction in which Gangrel ran off, but he is nowhere to be seen._

* * *

 _Finally, we've got the defensive countermeasures ready. I give the signal, and all at once, about a dozen casks of burning oil are dropped off the tops of the watchtowers onto the Plegian forces below. The results are… I'll say tactically satisfying. It certainly disrupts their attempts to knock down the doors to the manor._

 _Meanwhile, Virion, Basilio, Lon'qu, Gaius, and Vaike, along with a few of the Anchorage security guards, are firing arrows down into the crowd with relative impunity from atop the towers. Our mages are proving similarly useful, though their bright and highly visible attacks mean they have to move frequently to prevent return fire from being a problem. Even so, the quick reaction of the Shepherds to the commotion in the forest is commendable, and at this rate it seems clear that we can hold off this attack._

 _Now our remaining worries are threefold. Firstly, the manor might be safe, but the village is certainly not, and if we don't act quickly, there won't be much of a village left to protect. Secondly, while I have no doubt of their prowess in combat, we have no means of communicating with the bulk of the Feroxi forces stationed in the forest. While I have heard plenty about the durability of the Feroxi spirit, the rate at which the forest itself is being burned down does not exactly inspire confidence._

 _And thirdly, and objectively most importantly, no one can say where Randall is with any degree of certainty. And as much as I would like to be out there looking for him, unfortunately I'm needed here to continue directing the counterattack. Hopefully either Sumia or Cordelia will have found him by now, but until they return, I'm left in the dark as to his whereabouts. As a result, despite how well the fight here is going, my stress levels are through the roof._

 _Oh, thank the gods, there's Sumia at least. She lands uncharacteristically roughly on the south tower's roof, and all but collapses off the pegasus' back as she attempts to dismount. I see that Cordelia is in the saddle with her, which is more than a bit alarming._

 _Thankfully, Lissa is here to see to their healing posthaste. As she treats what appears to be a broken arm on Cordelia and several burns on Sumia's torso, I waste no time getting my report._

" _I'm glad you're safe. Where's Randall?" I ask as I stride over to them and crouch next to them as they lie on the stone. The pair of them stumble over each other in an effort to tell me right away._

" _He's down there," Cordelia says, pointing to the relatively open field southeast of the manor._

" _He was protecting Cordelia after Hyperion got shot down," Sumia continues._

" _He was still alive when we left him, but–"_

" _He's fighting Gangrel. King Gangrel is here with the Plegians."_

" _Gangrel's here?" I ask. They nod. "And you LEFT him there?"_

 _Sumia bows her head in shame, but Cordelia speaks up, "Kestrel couldn't have made the flight back with all three of us, so Sumia did what she could. I didn't want to leave him behind, but…"_

 _If she says anything else, she says it too quietly for me to hear. It doesn't matter anyway, because I'm no longer listening. My mind has already moved on to thinking about what comes next. Randall's almost certainly dead if he's really been left alone to fight Gangrel. Even so, there's a chance he's still alive down there. Whether it's because he's armed himself and is defending himself, or perhaps he could have escaped. In any case, until I see evidence for sure one way or another, I have to assume he's alive. Which means we need to get down there, now._

 _As Cordelia's arm bends back into shape with a gut-wrenching_ snap _, I ask, "Are either of you in any shape to get back down there? I have to get Randall to safety."_

 _While Lissa begins healing the weary pegasus, Sumia sits up, probing the spots on her chest where she took hits before. "I mean, I can get back there, but if I brought you as well, there'd be no point. Kestrel can't hold more than two people in the first place. So one of us would have to stay behind there, and since you don't know how to fly, that would leave only you."_

" _I just have to see that he's alive. That's all that matters," I reply, exasperated. Obviously, I can't expect her to get it, but that doesn't do anything for my patience._

" _I'll take you down there," Cordelia says, sitting up as well. "I didn't want to leave him in the first place," she adds, giving Sumia a sidelong glance. "And as long as Gangrel is with the enemy, I want to do everything we can to take him down. He has a lot to pay for."_

" _Cordelia, don't be reckless! The smart move is to pick Randall up and get him back here before we do anything else," Sumia protests._

 _Ordinarily, Sumia would be right, but I have to find out where Randall is. That is the only priority right now. This run is probably a good one to abandon anyway._

" _Will you take me now?" I ask._

 _Cordelia nods, then turns to Sumia. "I'm sorry, Sumia. I promise I'll bring Kestrel back safely, alright?"_

 _Sumia gives the pair of us a helpless look. "Wh-what am I supposed to do, then? I'm only any good when I'm in the air. On the ground I'm a useless klutz!"_

" _Get inside and protect your family. Protect them with everything you've got. I know you won't mess up, Sumia," Cordelia replies with a reassuring clap on her shoulder._

 _Sumia hesitates for a moment, then nods resolutely. "Okay. Go quickly, then." She picks up her lance and hastens toward the hatch down to the staircase._

 _It's only as Cordelia lifts me up onto the pegasus behind her that I realize I've never flown before. Good gods we are on a tall tower. Cordelia prompts the pegasus to gallop toward the edge, making my stomach twist in my chest. I have to throw both arms around Cordelia's waist, close my eyes, and squeeze for dear life as I feel the pegasus leap, flap, flap, and glide. Only after a solid five or so seconds can I force my eyes open to scan the ground below for Randall._

 _No sign of him from this height. Gods above, that's a lot of Plegians. We've taken out a lot already, but they've definitely still got the advantage of numbers. We reach the field Cordelia pointed out before, but aside from the prone and unmoving form of what I assume is Cordelia's pegasus, I don't see anyone this far away from the fight, dead or alive. If he's dead, that means they dragged his body off somewhere, which seems unlikely. Wherever he is, he was at least alive when he disengaged from Gangrel here._

 _But where would he have gone? Back to the manor would be a fool's errand, as there's a veritable sea of Plegians to cut through to get there. To the village would be equally idiotic if he went alone, as he would be vastly outnumbered against the at least three dozen or so that went out there. Would he have tried to find safety among the Feroxi in the forest? Possible, I suppose, and arguably the least unlikely thing he'd do, but still seems off somehow._

 _I don't want to think about it, but there's the possibility that he's been taken prisoner. Probably the worst possible thing that could happen in this situation unless we can get him back. A chill runs down my spine._

 _We keep looking for a while, but for the most part all we do is draw attention from the wyvern riders circling the property just beyond the range of our archers. Thankfully, with Cordelia's and my combined magical talent, we have little trouble keeping them off us. Even so, with every passing moment, my anxiety mounts. I'd almost rather find his corpse than continue to find nothing at all like this. Hell, we can't even find Gangrel in this mess of people._

 _Eventually, though I hate to admit it, we have no choice but to return to the watchtower. Until Randall's fate can be confirmed one way or another, keeping the rest of the Shepherds alive is the next biggest priority._

 _I reluctantly order Cordelia to return us to the others for now. I can tell by her expression that she hates the idea of leaving his fate unknown as much as I do. Even so, we return to the others, careful to dodge stray arrows from archers as we approach the manor. She touches down on the south tower's roof, and I leap with joy off the back of the pegasus and back to solid ground. I think I prefer to leave flying to the fliers, personally._

 _I'm informed that we're out of oil casks to drop on the enemy, and the fires that have been keeping them away from the grand hall doors are going to burn out soon. That means the fight is about to move to its next stage: inside the manor._

 _I motion for the mages atop both towers to leave their posts here and follow me inside. I command Virion to keep everything under control up topside and duck through the hatch, making haste down to the main floor. Thankfully, it seems like everyone is ready to go here as well. Chrom, Stahl, Panne, Gregor, Kellam, and Sully make up our front line, along with the security staff that aren't fighting on the roof. Behind them are the mages, the healers aside from Lissa, and myself. I take a quick look around and do a mental headcount; all the Shepherds except Randall are accounted for._

 _And of course, we can't leave out our best resource for door defense, as the Plegians quickly learn when they break through the doors moments later. Nowi, waiting just a couple feet behind the doorway, roars at an incredible, window-shattering volume, and spits a spray of dragon fire at the first unfortunate souls to try and charge inside. When she has to stop to inhale, some slip past her, only to be greeted by a combination of sturdy shields and destructive magic. With only one entrance to the manor, the Plegians are forced to funnel themselves into a convenient killzone with no tactical advantage or even any knowledge of the interior layout of the manor._

 _The only problem we have is that the bodies themselves start to pile up eventually, making it somewhat harder to aim. It's a wholesale slaughter. Clearly Gangrel's gift for national leadership doesn't extend to field command. He counted on numbers to save him, but if you can narrow those numbers into a manageable space, they don't mean anything anymore. Instead, all that waits for his men through this doorway is death. With Maribelle, Libra, Anna, and even Miriel now waiting in the wings to heal any wounds sustained by the Shepherds, we don't even have to worry about the line getting too fatigued to go on. We could legitimately keep this up all night long._

 _Eventually, it seems the Plegians realize this as well. The flow of soldiers through the doorway slows and eventually stops. Gregor goes outside to check what's going on._

 _He pokes his head back into the doorway. "They are making with the leaving! Like little fawn running from hungry bear, they scamper back into woods!"_

 _While the others start to cheer, I hold up a hand to get their attention. "We can't celebrate yet. They could just be retreating to regroup and come back as soon as we slacken our guard. They could be trying to draw us out of our secure position. Nowi, front liners, I want you here and on your guard until further notice. Most of the mages, too. I'll be having the archers keep watch from the rooftops to make sure the wyverns are gone as well. We haven't won yet. Worse yet, we have no word yet on Randall's location or condition. Until he's found, our job here isn't done."_

 _A murmur breaks out over the Shepherds. It seems clear that in the panic of dealing with the ambush, his absence wasn't the first thing anyone noticed. If only they knew how important he is to the success of our group._

" _And what of the village?" I hear behind me. I turn to see Lord Anchorage and his family have ventured out of their chamber to join us. While Lord Anchorage seems to be keeping his composure intact, it's clear that his wife and daughter are still terrified, their eyes constantly flitting about and looking for danger. "Surely we don't intend to just leave the inhabitants without defense," Lord Anchorage says._

" _I'm sorry we couldn't do more for them before," I reply. "As you're aware, we were attacked without warning. We couldn't even leave the building safely."_

 _He nods. "Of course, I understand. However, now that the assault on the manor has abated, I must insist we make liberating the village our first priority. Without the safety of our tenants guaranteed, we have no future here. We owe our villagers every bit of protection we can spare."_

 _The door to the north tower opens, and Basilio emerges into the main hall. "Robin, open up the doors. Flavia's here with our guys."_

 _Kellam and Stahl swing the doors open, and Flavia stumbles in, looking much worse for wear. Maribelle is quick to see to her wounds, while Libra, Miriel, and Anna get to work on the large group of Feroxi bleeding in the cold outside._

" _Flavia, what's the news? We saw you coming from the east side of the property," Basilio says._

 _Through gritted teeth as the skin of her shoulders is closed back up, Flavia replies, "When we realized we were under attack from multiple directions, we knew the village was gonna be a prime target without much defense. Thankfully, the Plegians didn't quite know who they were picking a fight with in the forest. They burned a whole hell of a lot of trees down, hoping they could box us in with them and corner us. Little did they know that it was_ they _who were trapped with_ us _. Still, I shouldn't make too light of it. We lost a lot of good men and women in the forest._

" _Even so, we knew the fight wasn't over yet. Those of us in fighting condition beelined for the village. Luckily, a few of our guys were out there drinking last night, so they knew the layout of the village pretty well. It seems like the village was a secondary target, as only maybe thirty or so of the Plegians had been sent out there. Still… we didn't exactly get there in a timely manner. Lots are dead down there too. Lots of buildings damaged. Crops burned. It'll be a long road to recovery, especially since this little incident has definitely put the estate on the map for the enemy."_

" _How many have died?" Lady Anchorage asks, her voice trembling._

" _Among the villagers, roundabout ten to twelve, I think. As for the Feroxi losses, it'll be difficult to say until we can sift through the burned parts of the forest and get a formal body count. It's safe to call it 'a lot' for now," Flavia replies solemnly._

" _Did any among the Feroxi see Randall anywhere in the fighting?" I ask._

" _He was in the forest when the fighting first broke out, but last anyone saw him, he was trying to make his way to the manor. None of ours ever saw him after that point," Flavia replies._

 _Gods damnit, where did he go? I have to find him, right now._

" _Alright, then here's the new plan. Flavia, take Panne, Tharja, Gregor, and Anna with you back to the village. Keep an eye on things there and make sure nothing else goes wrong. The rest of the Shepherds will stay here and be prepared in case the Plegians come back around. I want Virion and Gaius up top keeping an eye out for them. And Sumia, I want you in the sky, scouting the surrounding area for Randall and any straggling Feroxi or Plegians. Lastly, I want a small group heading out to search for Randall on the ground. Preferably two horses, four people. We'll head southwest along the road about half a night's ride, then return if we don't find anything."_

 _Maribelle raises her hand gently. "I'd like to volunteer to look."_

 _Stahl steps forward. "Me too. Fennec should be good to go."_

 _Chrom takes a stiff step forward. "Let me come too. I want to find Randall." His jaw is set strangely firm on his face, as if he's trying to swallow an egg whole. Something's on his mind for sure, and he's just barely keeping it buried. I'm sure I'll hear about it in a bit._

 _I nod. "Alright. Basilio, I'm leaving it to you to keep watch over everything in the manor. If anything comes up, I'm counting on you."_

 _If possible, he stands a little taller than he already does. "You got it, girl. Go find our lost boy."_

* * *

Wow, my head hurts. Scratch that. My everything hurts. Why do I hurt so much? What was I doing? Everything is quite fuzzy.

Oh yeah. I remember lightning. Explains why my muscles feel like they've been torn off and haphazardly slapped back onto my body. Even my comparatively magic-proof body's got limits, and that sword sure as hell tested them.

That sword. Gangrel was holding it. I was fighting Gangrel. And I still feel it, which means I didn't die. Which means wherever I am, it's in the same run.

I try opening my eyes, and a mix of bright moonlight and powerful wind punishes them for my hubris. "Fuck me," I mutter. Am I riding something?

Yes. That's definitely wind blowing through my hair. Where am I going? Moreover, who's taking me wherever I'm going?

"Hey," I say. "Hey!" I say again when I don't get a response right away, but raising my voice makes the back of my head throb.

"Oh, awake, are you?" someone says behind me. "Pouch in front of you on the saddle, in the center, should be a little vial of concoction. You'll want that, I'm sure."

Very badly, yes. I squint my eyes open just enough to find the pouch he's talking about, and get the clasp open. Even the act of raising the little bottle to my lips hurts the hell out of my beyond-sore arm, but as the syrupy liquid slides down my throat and my body hungrily starts soaking it up before it even reaches my stomach, I feel the pain and fatigue fade mercifully quickly. It also clears my senses up pretty well and takes the annoying fuzzy feeling away. I realize I'm not just riding a horse, and that I can feel the flapping of wings carrying us up and down.

Oh. That's right.

"I got that right before, then? Vasto?" I ask over my shoulder.

"Ah, you bothered to learn my name. How magnanimous of you," he says dryly. "By the way. You're not just strapped to the saddle; you're also strapped to me. So before you think of anything fancy like throwing me off my wyvern and flying off on your own, you should know a couple things. First, obviously, if I go down, so do you. And second, Kinba here would never allow anyone but me behind the reins. So do yourself a favor and don't try anything stupid. You're not reaching the ground alive without me."

"Uh, yeah. So… how are _you_ alive, dude? I saw you go over that cliff, and I also know you lost a couple limbs."

"Remembered that, did you? I really appreciate that, by the way. Getting by with one arm and one-and-a-half legs has been a real blast, I assure you. But as for how I survived, I have Kinba to thank for that. She wasn't able to stop me losing my limbs, but she did manage to get below me and soften my fall enough that it didn't quite kill me. I had a concoction in the saddle and managed to drink enough to stop the bleeding before I lost consciousness. Then it was just a matter of surviving long enough to get back to Plegia."

I try to give an impressed whistle, but the headwind kind of ruins that. "You might be a dickhead working for the wrong side, but that's impressive."

"Wrong side, my ass," he says.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I offend your sensibilities by suggesting that working for a homicidal warmonger might make you a bit of a bad guy?" I ask incredulously.

"You're one to talk when it comes to homicidal, priest–"

"Not a priest."

"–but even then, you're wrong about that. I don't work for that madman. I work for the only cause worth a damn on this continent."

"Is that right? Is this your way of trying to get in good with the Shepherds?"

"Hah! The Shepherds aren't worth the sand in my boots either. They prop up a regime just as corrupt as the Plegian royal family. No, I work for General Mustafa. I suppose I must also include that Lord Aventine too, since he's a founding member, craven though I think he is."

"Oh good, you're with… wait, huh? Didn't you intend to _kill_ Aventine?"

"Well I'll be damned. You really do know stuff that no one's supposed to know. Though you only knew half of it. I was planning to fake his death. It was a little something I came up with on the fly just in case any of the Shepherds got away after we were through with them. Better that they think he's dead than captured. Course, I never liked him, and he knew that. You must've spooked him into thinking I really did intend to just off him. So he scampered off and met up with that Grimleal priest instead. It's all the same, I guess."

"And Mustafa and Aventine are working together? To do what?"

"Well, I leave the particulars to them. Aventine could tell you better than I could. All I need to know is that we plan to topple both ruling structures in Plegia and Ylisse and replace them with something better. Finally rid ourselves of deep-rooted royal feuds that never have their origins in the common man, but always cost his life anyway."

I take a minute to let that soak in. A transnational conspiracy to oust both the Exalts and the Plegian royalty? Apparently spearheaded by Mustafa and Aventine, of all people? Neither of them much seems the type, honestly.

"Why are you telling me all this? What do you want with me?" I ask.

"Well, for starters, we need a healer. We send our guys on ops all the time lately, but when they come back hurt, we've only got vulnerary to keep them going. There's a lot Duke Osprey can get away with, but if we get too many shipments of vulnerary coming in, there'll be questions after a while. Second, we've needed a contact with inside knowledge on the Shepherds for a while now. You'll do nicely," Vasto says.

"An inside contact? What makes you think I want anything to do with helping you guys?" I demand.

"Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but what you want doesn't really matter. If it had been anyone but me who came down to intervene, you'd be heading off to Golgotha to get very painfully executed. The price for me saving your ass is that you come with me and help us," he replies. "In fact, you owe me double time. If you'd just held out a little longer, I might have had a shot to take down Gangrel without him noticing. I don't stand a chance if he knows where I am, but you had him distracted for a while. Instead I had to settle for making sure you didn't get killed."

"Well, thanks very much then, but I would have preferred getting killed, actually," I mutter.

"What's that?"

"Nothing. So I don't have a say in the matter?"

"Not unless you want me to drop you from Kinba's back and watch you plummet to the ground," he says nonchalantly.

Well, if it hadn't been for the save point getting moved when I woke up, that would've been nice too. Son of a bitch. It seems I have no choice but to go along with this for now.

"Well, where are we going, then?"

"We're headquartered at Duke Osprey's villa, now. Pretty nice place, actually, except for that we have to pretend to be occupied by Plegian forces whenever inspectors come around."

"Occupied? Where is this villa?"

"I'm surprised you don't know. Hadrian Osprey is the Duke of Themis."

* * *

 _We've been searching the thin woods south of the manor for about twenty minutes or so when Chrom finally speaks up._

" _Robin, hold on. I have to give my thoughts on the situation," he blurts suddenly. Maribelle and Stahl both bring their horses to a halt, sensing that whatever he's got to say is worth pausing for. I hop off Fennec's back, and he off Fleur-de-lis'._

" _What is it?" I ask, trying and probably failing to disguise my impatience. I don't like stopping the search for any reason._

" _Isn't it obvious what's happened here? Randall has betrayed us!" he says._

" _Milord!" Maribelle gasps from atop her mount. "What makes you say something so awful?"_

 _He launches into his explanation, barely pausing to breathe. "Think about it, Robin. Randall insists we can't go to the Ferrieder barony, that Lord Aventine couldn't be trusted and that we'd be safer going farther off the beaten trail to Anchorage. He says it's the only way to secure our passage safely to the capital. But what happens instead? Not only are we ambushed by a massive force the one night we stay there, but if what Sumia and Cordelia reported is true, Gangrel himself was among their forces! He knew exactly where we were going to be, and Randall led us right into Gangrel's trap. Then, when the fighting begins, where is Randall? Apparently he's outside in the forest by himself, according to Flavia's men. Why was he out there, except to give the signal that they were clear to begin the attack? Then he disappears from their sight for a while, and the next time anyone sees him, he's fighting with Gangrel? But when Sumia and Cordelia are gone, we don't know what happened to either of those men. Was Randall killed? Maybe, but why isn't there a body? Why would they take only his body with them? Why was Gangrel never seen after that point? Because once the coast was clear, Gangrel led his inside contact to safety, and the two make a clean getaway. It's the only way all these pieces connect logically." He takes a deep breath when he's finished. "We're looking for a traitor."_

 _Stahl and Maribelle sit in stunned silence. I too don't really know what to say. I ball up my fists at my side and stare at the grass for a moment. Even though Randall told me the truth about him not long ago, and that did fill in the gaps as to why he was so sure Aventine was a traitor, I can't deny that Chrom's version of events does sound plausible from his point of view. If I explained everything, that might help him see the truth, but to reveal Randall's secret would be an unforgivable breach of his trust. What can I say?_

 _Maribelle shouts suddenly, "Milord, that simply isn't so! I refuse to believe that Randall would betray us. Your story sounds nice and neat, but I heard Cordelia's report as well. She saw Randall fighting not only Gangrel, but his men as well. She helped him defeat them. According to Khan Flavia's men's report, he was actively fleeing the Plegians while they lobbed spells and arrows at him. He wasn't being delivered safely into their care; he was fighting them! Unless you expect me to believe that he was merely fighting and killing them to put on a show for Cordelia's benefit when he couldn't have known she was even there, it's preposterous to suggest he is on their side." She finishes her rebuttal with an unrepentant "Hmph."_

 _Leave it to Maribelle to step up when I couldn't see the forest for the trees. There was an explanation there all along without involving the full truth about Randall. I sigh in relief._

" _Even so, how in the hell did Gangrel know where we were going to be? There's no way he could have just guessed we'd be in a place this remote! And where is Randall now?" Chrom fires back._

" _I believe I have the answer to that," a voice from deeper in the woods says. A familiar voice, but from where…?_

 _A person in blue strides out from behind a tree. Well, mostly in blue. For some reason, she appears to be wearing a Plegian fighter's helmet. It's too big for her, though, so it sort of hangs over her face and obscures most of it._

" _Who are… Marth? Is that you?" Chrom asks._

" _It is. I wish we could have met under better circumstances," she replies. Even though we know she's a woman, she seems intent on artificially deepening her voice around us for some reason._

" _What are you doing here? Have you been following us?" Chrom asks._

" _I have. As you stray further and further from the future that I sought to avert, I am less and less sure of where the current sequence of events is going. I find it better to remain nearby in case unforeseen events, such as what happened tonight, transpire without warning," she explains._

" _Why didn't you tell us you were following us?"_

" _Because it is dangerous for us to associate too much. But on this occasion, I have grim news about Randall. As you may have realized by now, he has been captured by the enemy. I saw it myself, some hours ago."_

 _I step forward. "You saw it? Where? When?"_

" _When the fighting broke out, I was not in a position to engage the enemy without endangering myself. However, when I saw an Ylissean pegasus go down in the field southeast of the manor, I did my best to make my way over and intervene to help the fallen rider. However, instead of a woman like I was expecting, by the time I got there, Randall was there, fighting King Gangrel in single combat. Though I ran to attempt to reach him, Gangrel quickly bested him, and a wyvern rider descended from the sky, knocked Randall out, and wasted no time lifting him off the battlefield and carrying him off to the south. I was unable to defeat the rider in time to save Randall, and as he was taken away, I still had Gangrel to contend with. Though I defeated him, another wyvern interrupted before I could deliver the final blow. Gangrel escaped, and I was unable to find where he went. I had no choice but to hunker down and wait for the fighting to pass."_

 _A few seconds of stunned silence pass as we take her story in. The implications of this development are myriad and horrifying._

" _So, Randall's been captured by the Plegians?" Chrom asks at last. "He wasn't working with them?"_

 _Marth shakes her head, making the helmet flop around a bit. "No, not at all. They were trying to kill him until they decided to take him prisoner instead."_

 _Maribelle starts crying quietly. Stahl reaches over a little awkwardly and pats her shoulder._

" _And if he's been taken away on a wyvern, there's no way we can match that speed," I mutter._

" _Indeed. Nothing matches the airspeed of a trained wyvern, I'm afraid," Marth replies solemnly._

 _My fist tightens at my side until I almost strain the muscles in my palm and the Brand of the Defile on my hand loses some of its color. This is the worst possible outcome. Not only have we lost one of our best healers and a mage with great potential, but we've also lost the tactical advantage of the respawning power. And we've also lost whatever advantage comes with knowing how the 'script' of this war's story should have been._

 _On top of that, we've lost… well, Randall. Not just the unit, but the person. My friend. My best friend. How am I supposed to do this without him?_

 _I take a few steps away from the others and open my Elthunder tome. I tear the magic out of one of its pages and shriek as I use the lightning to blast a nearby tree into flaming wood chips. I turn to face the others as the tree burns behind me and impatiently wipe the few stubborn tears that have snuck out of my eyes off my face with my sleeve._

" _We are going to get him back."_

* * *

 **A/N: Hello and welcome back to ThreeDollarBratwurst Hates Writing Fight Scenes. I'll be your host.  
**

 **But really, as difficult as they are to write, we've been due for these armies to clash for a while now, so I hope this chapter lived up to your expectations. Lots of hidden truths revealed this time around! Remember when I mentioned all the strings I'm super excited to finally get to pull? It's exactly as much fun as I hoped it would be. And there are still truths to be revealed!**

 **As you know, I must give my thanks to Mixed Valence for his continued help with this story. Fight scenes are always a tough thing to gauge properly, because I know how the fight looks in my head, but getting that to the page and conveying it adequately is another matter entirely. Having a well-practiced pair of eyes scrutinizing my fights was a big help. In a similar vein, NotTheArchitect and Merc also have my thanks for their input on the chapter for the same reason. And here is your Mixed Valence out of context quote of the week: "I wasn't thinking _torture_ , but okay."**

 **By the way, I'd like to extend you all a formal invitation to join the FE fanfiction Discord server of which I am newly an admin. After a semi-hostile takeover of famed FE writer metallover's server, we have become an unholy triumvirate of benevolent virtual dictators known collectively as SI Smackdown 2019. I'll be putting the invite link up on my bio, and I'll also try putting it at the end of the notes here, but y'all know how FFN can get about link sharing. Come join us for sub-par memes and widely varied discussion and some insight on the daily inner thoughts of your humble auteurs.**

 **As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**

 **And now, the Discord link: discord. gg /3mdunvc (remove spaces)  
**

 **P.S. Aversa isn't canon.**


	32. Ch 32: A Milf Yells at Me

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 32: A Milf Yells at Me**

I do my best to wheedle more information on what the hell is going on out of Vasto, but he's the perfect storm of 'doesn't know enough to be a good source of information' and 'dislikes me enough that he wouldn't be super open with me even if he did know,' so he's kinda tight-lipped for most of the exceedingly long journey across several Ylissean provinces.

We mostly ride in silence, which gives me some time to think about this new shitshow of a situation I've gotten myself into. I'm apparently being taken to Themis, which _might_ not be the worst thing in the world because the Shepherds plan to make their way here eventually anyway, but that means Robin and the others are essentially on their own through the entire retaking of the capital and until they make their way here.

What are my options? If I remember right, the distance from Ylisstol to Themis was about a week and a half by horse-drawn carriage, so a solo horse booking it could probably make pretty good time. But that's making a lot of assumptions in my favor. First and foremost being that I'll even be allowed the freedom of movement it would take to get off the premises, commandeer a horse, and escape with enough food and water for a probably three-day journey. And even then, I don't know what I'm doing when it comes to taking care of a horse, let alone how to get it to listen to me and take me back to the capital. And even _then_ , all that only matters if the Sheps are actually at the capital by the time I get there. Will their plans stay the same even though I'm gone? Will Robin change their strategy now that she knows we can't have a repeat of Golgotha and take eight runs to make this liberation plan work?

Would she come looking for me? She wouldn't drag everyone to Plegia to try and track me down, would she? That'd be just as dangerous, no, _more_ dangerous than just going ahead with the plan to recapture the capital first. I hope she knows that as well as I do. I'm sure she does.

Another option is to go along with whatever they say insofar as it doesn't involve acting against my friends. I guess if they're looking to take down the Plegian government, we at least have that in common. And it's not like Mustafa hasn't proven to be at least a pretty decent guy so far. I can't vouch for Aventine or Vasto yet, but I'm open to the possibility that they might not be irredeemable assholes. I guess.

Anyway, I've got shit on my own end to sort out. Like why the hell is the Osprey villa a safe haven for a conspiracy group bent on toppling the Exalted family? I guess all that traveling that the duke is infamous for isn't just for keeping up the province's trade deals after all. He's apparently been meeting at other safehouses with his traitorous buddies to scheme about… I dunno, communist revolution? Vasto won't tell me the exact nature of what they're after in the positive sense. What are they after once the current government is toppled? I guess that'll be something else to figure out.

That's another thing. This group seems to be comprised mostly of people who should be dead by now. Vasto, Mustafa, and Aventine at least, as well as perhaps others. If indeed this group actually existed in-game, I have no doubt that having both Aventine and Mustafa killed essentially dissolves the group and makes it a non-threat. But in this world, I have no way of knowing how influential they might be. How big is this group? Are Chrom, Lissa, and Emmeryn in danger from them? What about the Shepherds in general? Does this political reorganization of the country involve keeping us around, or do we all get the axe? Are they capable of pulling something like that off? Vasto isn't forthcoming with any information on those fronts. I think he's still moderately salty that I accidentally dismembered him over the summer. I told him it was an accident!

It ends up being a couple days as the wyvern flies to get to Themis. Thankfully, finding water isn't too difficult now that we're in a country that actually has abundant life, and he's brought enough food to make the trip almost bearable. The only true inconveniences on the trail are sleep and shitting. At night, I'm required to use Vasto's wyvern for a bed, which isn't the least comfortable thing in the world, but he instructs her to chew my head off if she feels me move to get off her. And as for shitting, he insists on standing a couple feet away, axe in hand, watching me and daring me to try and run off with my pants around my ankles.

Speaking of clothes, forget what I said before. The true worst part of the trip is the cold. My robes, God bless them, got burned to cinders and lost back at the Anchorage estate, and I forgot my leather jacket in my room (and only a couple weeks after I'd gotten it, too!), so I have very little in the way of cold protection. And up in the clouds, with the wind and the chilling air, it would've damn near killed me if Vasto hadn't reluctantly given up a woolen blanket of his for me to cling to while we fly. It's hardly northern Ferox levels of bad, but it sure makes me miss those robes.

In any case, we eventually arrive. I don't know what I expected to see, but it wasn't this. Two things stand out. Firstly, it seems from the outside like the place has been completely repaired. No burnt grass patches, no broken doors or windows, no bloodstains on the stone. It's as if what happened here… didn't.

And second, the place is positively crawling with Plegian soldiers. I count at least a dozen out in the front yard, and a few more on the roof. Mostly lancers and mercs, with a couple archers and mages, all sporting the red and black of Plegia. I know Vasto said it's a farce, and all these guys are actually in on the operation, but holy hell is it a convincing display.

After we land in the paddock near the west side of the building, Vasto starts unfastening the straps keeping me in the saddle. Before he lets go, though, he leans in close.

"I'm choosing to let you go around here without bonds. Don't make me regret that, or I'll give you injuries to match mine. Fair's fair, after all," he growls.

"You know, your voice is pretty sexy when you talk all gruff like that," I reply. He all but throws me off the wyvern's back.

"Aventine won't be expecting you, so I'm going to let him know about our situation. In the meantime… where could that kid have gotten to?" Vasto says as he clambers out of the saddle himself.

The door to the west wing swings open and hits the wall with a _clack_. Running out the door comes maybe the last person I was expecting to see.

Is that Henry?

"Hello, hello Vasto!" Henry shouts as he rushes over to us. "Didja see anything interesting? Didja kill anyone interesting? Who's this?"

"Hullo, Henry," Vasto replies, seemingly already exasperated. "No, no, and a Shepherd named Randall, in that order."

Henry shrugs. "So a pretty boring outing overall, sounds like." He turns to me. "Hiya! I'm Henry! Nice to meetcha!"

I give him a still slightly disbelieving nod. "Likewise. Like he said, I'm Randall."

"Alright Henry, I gotta go see the old man and the duke and let em know about this one," Vasto says, jerking a thumb at me. "I want you to keep an eye on him, and if he tries to leave the property, I want you to put that Ruin tome of yours to work. Got it?"

Henry gives Vasto a jaunty salute. "You betcha!"

Vasto grunts in acknowledgement and limps off, slightly dragging his metal prosthetic as he does so.

"So," Henry says as Vasto leaves, "you're a Shepherd, right? Is it fun to be with them?"

I shrug. "More enjoyable than being with anyone else so far. In fact, I'd be with them right now if your friend over there hadn't kidnapped me off the battlefield."

"Ooh, you got kidnapped? That sounds exciting!"

Oh good lord, I can already feel myself getting tired of this kid. "Thrilling. If you don't mind, can we talk a little less, maybe? I'm tired and irritable after two straight days of flying."

Henry doesn't seem phased. "Sure! Just don't go running off, or I'll have to take your head off. Actually, that sounds pretty fun too, so I guess you can do whatever!"

"Cool, thanks I guess." I take a short walk around the corner and see the old training ground where the guards used to train. I recall now seeing it for the first time, up in the library in the villa.

As I approach the training dummies, I get a sort of rising feeling in my throat. My head starts to kind of hurt, too, but it's also possible that's just because I'm tired. I walk up to one of the dummies and look at its stitched-on button eyes. Why is that reminding me of something..?

* * *

" _What are you doing out here?" I ask through a yawn as I half-stumble outside into the brisk morning air._

" _Oh, good morning, Mister Randall. I'm fixing up these training dummies before the guards come out here for their morning training session," Melinda says with what I'll call hotel-staff-cheerful politeness._

" _Fixing em up, huh? Are they that hardcore with training?" I ask, inspecting what she's doing in particular. "Hang on. Are you just sewing button eyes onto them?"_

" _Re-sewing," she corrects, "and yes. It helps to know about where an enemy's face is going to be if you have to attack a real person someday, and the eyes are viable targets. Also… it makes them cuter," she adds, much more quietly._

 _Not quietly enough to slip past me. "You like to make them cute, even though the guys will be out here beating the crap out of em here in a little bit?"_

 _She scoffs as she stands upright. "You would do well to see the merit in fixing people up, even knowing they're going to have the… 'crap' beaten out of them. That will essentially be your job when you're finished training here, you know."_

" _Well, well, Melinda, I didn't know you were so sharp at turning a phrase," I reply with an impressed smile-frown and a raised brow._

 _Her eyes widen and her face flashes crimson. "Oh my goodness, that was so rude of me! I beg your pardon, Mister Randall."_

 _I laugh out loud. "No, trust me, I like it. It's good to be put back in my place once in a while."_

 _Her expression seems to be torn between lingering embarrassment and a smile trying to fight through. I find it pleasantly endearing. After a couple seconds, she manages to swallow both and resume a straight face while she continues sewing on the button._

* * *

I'm still stroking the little button on the dummy's face.

"Wow Randall, you really like that training dummy, huh?" Henry says behind me.

I turn to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"You've been standing there for like two minutes just rubbing its face, and right now you look like you could start crying," he replies with a shrug.

"I do?" I take a sniffly breath in through my nose. "Huh. Well, I'm fine."

What the hell was that? I haven't thought about that in ages. That was so long ago now. I think that was only a week or so after I'd moved in here. It's not like I forgot about it, exactly, but I guess I just… didn't really think about it for a while.

I shake my shoulders out a bit and take a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm good. It's just kinda wild being back, is all."

"You've been here before?" Henry asks.

"Yeah, I was trained here. Learned how to use a healing staff with Maribelle, the duke's daughter." We start walking around the grounds a bit. I shiver a bit as a punishing gust pushes through my blanket that I just realized I still have draped over my shoulders.

"Ooh, you're a healer, huh? That must be fun! You get to see everyone's wounds up close!" Henry exclaims cheerfully.

I shrug. "It's not the worst job out there. Definitely makes you feel useful. You'd have liked the training, too. You take turns with your partner slicing your arms open and having the other person heal the wound."

Henry just about starts clapping. "Wow, really? How long would you do that for?"

"Few hours a day, almost every day."

"No fooling? That sounds like a blast! Well, unless it hurts. I don't like getting hurt. But all that blood sounds fun! Does it hurt?"

Do I detect a headache coming on? "I mean, it hurt me, but I wasn't very used to pain before I came to Ylisse. I've gotten concerningly used to it since then, though."

"Well, you can show me later how it's done, and I'll be the judge of that. Nyahaha!"

We continue to walk around for a while. I try to get used to the idea that I'm back here. I remember running this way around the back of the villa, evading Plegian soldiers as I tried to find out what the hell was going on the day we were invaded. I tripped over a dead security guard right here. Those images come to mind unbidden and without letting up. They're the only thing I find I can think about right now.

I'm staring at the spot where I saw Captain Jackson make his last stand when a voice behind me interrupts my reverie. "You must be Randall, then."

I turn around. The man standing in the doorway couldn't be anyone but the Duke of Themis. The way he stands, the pristine posture and gainly presence. That's one hundred percent Grade-A Maribelle.

He looks every bit the dapper gentleman I'd expect from Maribelle's family. His chin is prominent but not Jay Leno ridiculous. His cheekbones are high and pronounced. His heavily greying hair, still showing whispers of the blond it used to be, is slicked back and stops exactly where his shirt collar starts. He has one of those perpetually-angry-looking browlines that always scared me when my friends' dads would have them when I was a kid. Though that may be because his brow has to curl around his honest-to-God gold-framed monocle he wears over his right eye. Overall, he kind of looks like the middle-aged result of an illicit affair between Grand Moff Tarkin and the Vice-President of the Daily Days.

He's decked out in an exceedingly fancy suit, with a nice white shirt covered by a dark blue silk vest, which matches his pants. Over his left shoulder he wears a small cape that reaches just above his wrist, white and shiny silk. There's a gold crest embroidered in, but I can't see it from this angle. My guess is the Osprey family crest.

He speaks with that same aristocratic lilt to his voice that Maribelle has, though admittedly it's much more endearing coming from her than this guy. "Oh, where are my manners? My name is Hadrian Osprey, Duke of the Province of Themis. I'm pleased to finally make your acquaintance." He bows slightly.

Remembering myself, I return the bow. "Oh, you were right. I'm Randall. Nice to meet you too."

He raises the brow that isn't holding up his monocle. "It seems you are a more polite young man than my daughter indicated." He shakes his head once, a weirdly calculated movement. "No matter. I wonder if you might have a word with me. Henry, if you would be so kind as to let us speak in private?"

"I sure would, except Vasto told me I had to keep an eye on him in case he tries to run off," Henry replies.

"I have permission from Captain Vasto to relinquish you of your duty. Randall here won't be able to escape from inside the building. If you could find… something else to do, that would be best." I can tell Hadrian is just as apprehensive about talking to Henry as I am.

"Oh! Okay! I'll go see what Mikkel is up to, then!" Henry replies, chipper as ever, and runs off.

Hadrian watches him go, then when the dark mage rounds the corner out of sight, he lets out a brief sigh. "My apologies for the holdup. Please, join me for some tea."

I nod and follow him inside. He leads me up the east foyer staircase — the same staircase I was standing on when I saw what had become of Melinda. When I watched Aversa kill Isadora where she stood. I shiver as my boots fall on the ornately carpeted stairs and we ascend to the second floor.

He leads me a bit down the east hallway and into a small, unoccupied room on the north side of the building. The room is clearly meant for little tea gatherings like this, handsomely decorated and with a small stove in the corner for heating a tea kettle. It looks like a pot is already on, so I suspect the room was prepared in advance.

"Please, sit down," he says, gesturing to one of a few seats at a small oaken table in the center of the room. I take a seat while he pours the tea into a couple finely carved cups and places one before me.

"Not often I get served tea by a duke. Or by anyone, for that matter," I say with a forced, polite laugh. I don't want to piss this guy off while I'm staying in his home if I can avoid it. And without the hypothetical defense of respawning, I feel weirdly naked and vulnerable.

"Well, I suppose there's a first time for everything. I wanted a chance to have a word with you in private before any of our other compatriots got to you and overwhelmed you with questions and demands," he says, very businesslike.

"Is that what I can expect? Questions and demands?" I ask.

"Very likely, yes. Which is why I wanted the first person you interacted with here to be someone you already know is on your side." Do I know that, though? He's being surprisingly wooden for someone who wants to come across as my pal. "So, first things first. I know Captain Vasto gave you some vulnerary on the ride here, but are you still injured in any way? I'm led to believe you were quite thoroughly thrashed in the battle with King Gangrel."

You sure are a flatterer, Duke Hadrian. "Thanks, but I'm pretty much alright. More than a bit tired, as I'm sure you can guess, but otherwise I'm good," I reply.

He nods, satisfied. "Excellent. I'm glad that Vasto's quick thinking was able to get you off the battlefield alive and into safe hands."

Is that how he wants to frame this? Not as a kidnapping, but as a rescue? Sorry friend, you'll have to try a little harder than that.

"I do appreciate being saved, of course, but just so I can be clear up front. Vasto told Henry to _blast my head off_ if I tried to leave the property. Am I right in thinking I'm not allowed out of here now that I've been brought in?" I ask, leaning in slightly to put on the pressure.

The duke leans back an almost imperceptible amount in response. "Unfortunately, that's the way things must be for the time being. We are, after all, taking a major risk in bringing you here and informing you of our members' identities."

"Yeah, none of which I actually asked for, by the way," I shoot back, losing my willingness to play nice with this guy by the second as he acts the part of the two-faced bureaucrat to try and get me calm and compliant. It ain't going down like that.

"Y-yes, well, I'm sure Vasto made you aware of our situation here, what with the need we have for a healer, as well as–"

"Yeah, he told me. Y'all thought I would turn informant for you just because I'd been brought against my will to another faction's headquarters? When I already know you plan to take down the Exalted family as well?"

"Now see here, it's not that simple! There are finer details that have to be taken into account!"

I'm on my feet. "Your finer details can kiss my ass! Healing injured people is one thing, but you really expect me to abandon my friends that easily? Abandon your daughter too, need I remind you?"

Someone clears their throat in the doorway. I whip my head over to look, and I see one of the last people on my list of people I'd like to talk with over tea right now.

"Ah, I hate to interrupt, but it's clear this conversation has become unproductive," Aventine says as he strolls in. He's bailed on the green robes he was wearing when I last saw him, in favor of a simple if nice-looking cream tunic and brown trousers. He still wears that same douchey green hat though, and those tiny, punchable glasses. He takes a seat next to Hadrian.

"You're goddamn right it's become unproductive," I growl.

He holds up his hands to try and calm me. I decide to hear him out for a moment, very reluctantly.

"Now I know that Vasto likely didn't give the best impression of us when he, erm, lifted you from the battlefield and brought you here. Nor was he likely very clear about what our goals are. Rest assured, it's not nearly so grim as you're probably thinking. If you'd be willing to at least let me explain ourselves, I'm confident you'll see we're not so evil as you fear," Aventine says.

"Is that right? And I assume if I'm not willing to hear it, Vasto's waiting outside that door to give me the axe?" I fold my arms.

"Well, not exactly. Vasto will join us later. He's dealing with some… unfortunate news at the moment. But you're at least correct that leaving the villa isn't an option, whether you hear us or not," Aventine explains. "It's up to you whether you'd rather sit in ignorant silence or learn more about who we are and what we want. Then you can at least know if you really are opposed to us."

"And I'm supposed to believe whatever you tell me? Vasto already spilled the beans that y'all want to take down the Ylissean government. How are you gonna spin that in a direction that makes me not want to throttle you for betraying my friends?" I ask.

Aventine shrugs with an infuriatingly dismissive expression on his face. "You can believe whatever you like. I will tell you what we're trying to accomplish here, and you can either work with us willingly, or we can keep you prisoner and continue feeding you only insofar as you perform the bare minimum, which is healing duties. I would prefer to be working with someone who understands and sympathizes with our goals, but I'll settle for nothing more than a healer if I must."

I sniff irritably. "Fine. Let's hear it."

Aventine sits up straighter and smooths out his tunic. "Very well. I will keep it brief for now. In short, our objective is to remove the Plegian and Ylissean royal families from power and replace them with a government that will be directly accountable to the people. In the past, it was necessary to rally behind warriors chosen by the gods as they led their homelands to victory against the forces of darkness. But those days are gone, and now we are seeing the cost of following such families. There has been no demon, no dragon, no devil to fight for nearly a millennium. Now the only enemies that these leaders wish to fight is each other, which they do with alarming regularity.

"With the authority of the divine dragons backing them, these families' authority has remained unaccountable to the people they lead. War after war, crusade after crusade, and what does it win for anyone? Influence and wealth and land for the powerful, but for the common man? Death and poverty. Waste on top of waste. But they'll fight, because how could they not? The blessed rulers ordained by the gods themselves have told them they must, after all! These elites fester on their thrones, and their kingdoms with them. So we mean to oust them from their seats of authority and replace them with a government beholden to the people it would send to war and death. A government that answers to the mandate of the citizens, because it only exists by that same mandate."

"So, you want like a democracy? A republic?"

Aventine smiles, which kind of creeps me out because I've never seen him do that before. "Ah, I see you're a scholar of political thought! I'm so glad we can skip some of the more droll details for the time being. Of course, the details become important later, but for now I need to know where you stand on the idea of creating a republic, one that is run by the will of the people, not the whims of the descendents of heroes long gone by."

Well now, this is an interesting predicament. On one hand, of course I'm aware of the important role Chrom and the Shepherds will play in the coming years, not just in this war but in the fight with Grima to come. But on the other hand, I mean, I'm from America. I came to love the idea of the republic when I was almost too young to talk at all. It's the system I grew up in, and I'd like to think I turned out okay. And while Emm and Chrom might be good rulers, there's a point to be made that not all Exalts have been created equal. Certainly Exalt Gideon left a bad taste in people's mouths, and who's to say there haven't been plenty more like him? If I'm not getting bullshat (bullshitted?) right now, he's sort of got an argument here.

I take a breath to collect my thoughts. "Alright. I'm not saying your idea is shit. _Yet_. The jury's still out on that one."

"Oh, you believe in trial by jury as well. You really are a learned one, after all."

I pinch my nose. "Anyway. So far your idea doesn't sound inherently evil. Which is why I'm not saying no just yet. But believe me, that is far, _far_ from a yes. Are we clear on that?"

The pair of them look annoyingly chipper. "Crystal clear, Randall," Aventine says. "But does that mean that you'll work with us?"

"A few conditions. First, I want your word that no one in this group will ever bring any of the Shepherds or their families to any harm. Absolutely non-negotiable. Second, I want to be informed on all the operations this group is undertaking at all times. I want to be allowed to clear it all myself. And third, I want a means to get in contact with Robin, the tactician of the Shepherds, as soon as possible. Agreed?"

Aventine and Hadrian exchange a look. "Well, we can certainly make it clear to our men that they are not to intentionally harm any of the Shepherds, but surely you understand why there may be situations where they would be forced to defend themselves."

"Tell them to run. Flee. Tank a few hits if they have to. I'll gladly put the work in to heal the difference," I reply stubbornly.

"We will… see what we can do on that front. Not out of a desire to betray this condition, but rather as a means of not making a liar of myself, I must abstain from an absolute guarantee at this point. In any case, getting in contact with the Shepherds must naturally be forbidden. We can't risk you revealing the nature of our plan or the identities of those involved, especially if we are to abide your second condition. On a personal level, I have no objection to allowing you to know about our operations, so long as your communication with the outside is blocked until you earn our trust," Aventine says.

"So I'm supposed to be kept in the dark as to what my friends are doing or where they might be? I thought you wanted me to be an informant for you. How am I going to be a good informant without talking with them?" I ask.

"Well, there are a few elements to this decision. Firstly, we have no means of preventing you from communicating in some sort of code with Robin or the other Shepherds. You might have some secret language that you would use to send covert messages without our knowledge. We can't risk that."

He leans forward, brow furrowed seriously. "And as for why you'll still make a good informant, I think you know why. You have knowledge of things you shouldn't. You should never have been able to predict my turning on the Ylisseans, nor should you have known when or where it was to happen. On top of that, you knew about Vasto's plan to fake my death before even I did. No one had ever seen you before among our circles, or indeed at all before about six months ago. Despite being a veritable nobody, you just… knew things. So I'm sure you can understand why I think you'll do just fine without getting in contact with your friends directly."

Oh, fucking hell. That's just great.

He slowly breaks out into a triumphant smile as I sit silently, trying to set him on fire with my stare alone. He's got me, and he knows it.

"I'm going to hold off on asking how you knew any of those things for the time being. I suspect you wouldn't tell me anyway, no matter how we tried to persuade you. And unlike that tyrant on the Plegian throne, we don't abide torture. So that secret is safe for now," Aventine says with an unbearably smug tone. How can hearing him saying things I should technically be happy about piss me off so much?

Hadrian finally speaks up again. "Well, I think that's about as good a resolution as we are going to have for now. Tensions remain high, and everyone is in need of some time away from, well, each other, I suspect."

I lean back in my chair, finally allowing myself to relax a little. "You're damned right about that, Duke Osprey. I'd like some time to myself to process all this."

"In that case, can I offer a bath and a change of clothes? Your current garb, while I'm sure it was tasteful when you first bought it…"

I glance down at my outfit. I guess I hadn't really paid much attention until now, since there was nothing for it, but I pretty much look like shit. My underclothes, while not burned to cinders like my old robes, are still pretty intensely damaged from the fight. A few burn holes here and there, a number of tears, and of course they're remarkably frayed and dingy now as well.

"You know, that actually sounds like exactly what I need right now."

* * *

 _I let out a manly yelp as I open the door and am suddenly face-to-face with another person where I didn't expect there to be one. My yelp in turn earns a yelp from Melinda, who flinches back but manages to stop just short of swinging her wooden scrub brush in my face._

" _Oh, it's you, Mindy. Sorry," I say a little breathlessly as I step out of the bathroom. I'm still getting used to non-ventilated bathrooms, so the water combined with the stuffy, hot air of the early-summer windowless room still has me a bit lightheaded._

" _Yes, it is. My apologies for startling you. I was just about to knock," Melinda says, looking just off to the side of me. I don't get what she's averting her gaze for, though. I put all my clothes back on once I was done. I mean, my hair's still pretty wet, but that's hardly indecent, is it? Maybe she's just salty that I called her Mindy again. Well, it's too late; I've decided the nickname is going to stick._

" _Well, the bath's all yours if you need it," I say, gesturing with my head at the door behind me._

" _I-I mean, I was going to clean the bath out, not use it myself. The servants aren't permitted to use the guest bath," she says._

" _Well, what do you do, then?"_

" _We've got a bath basin at home. My mother and I, I mean. Usually we draw up some water from the well and share it from the basin."_

 _I consider for a moment. "Well, do you wanna use it? The guest bath. I won't tell anyone if you just want to take a break and soak for a bit."_

 _Her eyes widen almost cartoonishly. "Oh, I couldn't! It's forbidden!"_

" _Aw, come on, live a little! Who hasn't used the forbidden bathroom once or twice in their lives?" I ask with a conniving grin._

" _Me!"_

" _You're about to clean it anyway, right? Just do that when you're done using it yourself. What's the harm?"_

" _My mother will find out! She_ always _finds out."_

" _I'll stand guard out here for you. If I hear anyone coming, I'll warn you," I assure her._

 _She frowns. "I mean… it's not as though I've never wanted to use the guest bath. But there's no getting anything past her, Mister Randall."_

 _I throw my hands up from my sides, mock-hurt. "What, you don't think I'd make a good lookout?"_

" _Alright, no offense intended. I just… well, you haven't known my mother as long as I have. She might seem like a sweet, harmless old lady to you, but if you get on her bad side…" She shivers._

" _Is she really that scary?" I ask._

" _Oh, you don't know the half of it." She looks up and down the hallway a couple times. "You promise you won't try and peek, or anything?"_

 _I raise a hand. "You have my word."_

" _And if Mother comes, you'll come up with something?"_

 _I nod._

 _Her shoulders relax a little as she exhales. "Alright. But keep a sharp eye out. She's like a hawk."_

" _Roger Dodger."_

 _She stops halfway through the doorway. "Thank you, Mister Randall."_

" _You're welcome, Mindy."_

 _I hear her sigh as the door shuts behind her. I smile in spite of myself and take a seat on the floor next to the doorframe and close my eyes as I lean against the wall._

* * *

I open my eyes. I'm still in the tub. And based on the wrinkled state of my hands, I've been in here for too long.

My breathing is heavy and a bit shuddery. I'd… forgotten that. It meant so much to me at the time that she would break rules and defy her mother, even secretly, just to play along with me. Now I can remember clearly how much I smiled that day. But I haven't thought about that ever since Maribelle and I were taken. Since Melinda and the others were killed.

No. It's not that I've forgotten. It's that I haven't been allowing myself to remember.

" _I'm the parts of you that you won't let yourself look at."_

" _Why do you look like Mindy, then?"_

" _Because of what you did to her."_

" _What did I do to her?"_

" _And there it is. Finally you're asking the right questions."_

And here, maybe I'm getting some answers. Try as I might, even now I can't think of what I might have done to her that would still be haunting me. But I think I need to know.

I'm tired of these half-slept nights.

I hoist myself out of the tub and pull on my new set of clothes: a comfy but dull-tinted blue tunic, white linen pants, and brown leather mid-calf length boots and matching belt. The outfit kind of makes me feel like a minstrel, but at least it's comfortable.

Alright, it's time to get to work. I want to get to the bottom of this, straight away if I can.

* * *

So it turns out, you can't exactly just go out and _force_ your repressed memories to resurface. I walked down every hallway, did a few laps of the outside of the building, checked out the security depot in back, peeked into every unlocked room in the villa, and all of it yielded precisely jack squat. Maybe I just have to relax a bit, take it slower, and the truth of the matter will come to me in due course.

…God, that sounds like ass. I'm getting antsy. I'm still avoiding Aventine and Vasto for the time being, and I'm not super keen on seeing the others right now either. I want to get away from everything for a bit.

Meditation. I just need to find a place to do that. Even without Libra here, I'm confident I can get some peace out of it by myself.

I find myself a small walk-in pantry near the kitchen that no one is using at the moment. There's a large enough open space on the hardwood floor that I can sit comfortably. I enter the room and close the door behind me, then take a deep breath as I sit on the floor.

I focus on the faint smell of dust. The way the left side of my face is slightly warmer than the right because of the small ray of orange sunset coming through the tiny window in the back wall. The feel of these newer, decidedly nicer clothes on my body. Just let everything go for a little while. Just breathe, and focus on your physical presence.

Don't let yourself think about the war. Or how the Shepherds are doing. Or what they might do if they think the Plegians have you. Or what Robin might do without access to the respawning power. Or what'll happen to you here. Or how you're actively abetting enemies of the state with every service you will eventually perform for them. Or how now you're facing the legitimate moral-political conflict of whether a republic like Aventine says he wants could actually be better than the halidom system. Or how you seem to have a lot more repressed memories of this place than you thought, and now it feels like you don't even know the person you were when you were last here outside of little snippets here and there. Or how now that you know that you've been repressing memories, you just can't seem to make them come the fuck back. Or how you just want to punch a hole in something and scream like a baby, but you know that won't do you any good. Just don't think about that stuff. Think about something that relaxes you before you strain something, Jesus.

Think about your friends. Think about getting drunk with Gaius and Sumia to get over Maribelle blowing you off. Think about doing laundry with Stahl and having Sully throw you into a cool, clear oasis. Think about how good Emmeryn and Frederick have been doing since their injuries, and how you earned Frederick's trust. Think about Cordelia in general, actually, but especially think of how you saw to the core of her problem with Donny and gave her a healthy outlet to work through that frustration. Think about how you and Maribelle will finally be able to work things out and function like a pair of friends again. Think of how much she cares about you. Think about how Chrom confided his worries about filling his sister's shoes to you and, far as you're aware, you alone, and even decided to trust you when you actively held the whole truth about yourself at arm's length.

Hell, think about Robin accepting you even when you didn't hold that truth back anymore. Think of how relieved you were when you learned she remembers every timeline you've ever left behind. That you're not doing this alone. That maybe, at least with one person, you can allow yourself to remember the world you left behind.

That she hasn't lost yet. That none of the things that could go wrong for them have necessarily gone wrong yet, or will do so. That, cliché as Lucina makes it sound when she says it, hope will never die, and definitely not while you're still kicking. You're more than this respawning power, and so are the Shepherds.

That you made a promise to Libra. That you'd work with him to try and make this world a better place when this war finally comes to an end.

Just breathe. Jesus, that tension in your shoulders. All the way down your arms. _Relax._

"Hoo," I blow air out my mouth, and let some of those biting, toxic thoughts loosen their hold on me for a moment, and replace them with thoughts of the things I want to protect most. The tightness in my back and in my limbs slowly begins to melt off, and I allow myself to breathe for real.

"Worrying about it won't make it go away," I half-whisper to myself.

* * *

I'm given a surprisingly nice dinner, considering I'm technically a prisoner here. Aventine offers to let me eat with everyone else in the east dining hall, but I don't think I'm quite ready to be part of the gang just yet. I'm taking my beef and potatoes outside on the front steps, wearing a dark brown wool coat over my tunic to chase off the mid-December (I think? I should ask about that, actually) chill. It's a clear night, and but for a few feathery clouds here and there, the stars dominate the sky.

The door opens behind me. I turn to see who's coming out, and I'm surprised to see Duke Hadrian strolling out in a thick, fur-lined cloak. Despite myself, I set my plate aside and stand to address him.

He waves a hand dismissively at my scramble to get to my feet. "Please, no need for that. You should sit and eat your meal while it's still hot."

After a moment's hesitation, I obey and sit back on my step and set my plate back on my lap.

"That said, if you spill beef grease on those white trousers, I shall be more than a little disappointed in you," he adds with a chuckle, earning a small, slightly nervous laugh from me as well. He walks past me and down a couple stairs before turning to face me. "I wanted to talk with you. Not as a representative of Lord Aventine and his revolution, but as Hadrian Osprey, a fellow man. And as the father of Maribelle Osprey."

I don't know how to reply. Is this just more two-facedness to try and win more of my favor? The good cop, bad cop routine, maybe? I don't want to think ill of Maribelle's dad, but he hasn't exactly won many points so far.

"I know what you must think of me, Randall. The absentee father, pompous in dress and overly careful in mannerism. The man who puts station and influence above everything, including his family. The perfect hypocrite, a remote nobleman who does not know the plight of the common man, up in his castle in the sky," he says, peering at me intently. "I see the lack of trust in your eyes, and indeed I have done nothing to earn your trust."

I swallow my bite of potato before replying. "Well, if you want the truth, I don't trust anyone here. That does include you, but it's nothing personal. I just tend on principle not to trust people who keep me prisoner, no matter how nice the clothes or the food they provide in the meantime."

He nods solemnly. "As well you should not. We aren't to be trusted, at least to outsiders. We are, after all, subversives of the highest order. Our goals include the supplanting of not one, but two divinely vested systems of power. We are defying even the will of the gods to accomplish our task."

I sit up a little straighter. "I do have a question for you about that. Why would you support a movement like this? Won't the creation of a republic mean your noble lineage will lose its significance?"

"If all there was to me was my noble heritage, you would be right to say I should fear the coming change. But I am a craftier man than many give me credit for. I can adapt to a new system, especially if I have a hand in making it myself. That's why I jumped at the opportunity to join this group when given the chance. There's something about that Lord Aventine… I know that his goals will succeed. I won't allow myself or my daughter to be swept aside in the approaching tide," he replies, puffing his chest out slightly.

"Is that what you wanted to make me understand? That this change is coming anyway, and I should hop on board while I've got the chance?" I ask.

"Yes, that's… wait, no. My apologies, I allowed myself to get off-track. All that politicking and scheming can wait for another day. For now, I feel I must express my appreciation to you. You see, my daughter has often kept journals throughout her life, and that includes the period during which you trained here. That journal was left behind when the two of you were kidnapped. She wrote a great deal about you. How you irritated and frustrated her at first, and how your learning was somewhat slow going for the first few weeks. But more importantly, how you came to grow in her esteem, and how constant you were in your kindness to her. Despite being a stranger in an unfamiliar land, she wrote that you were at all times seeking to adapt quickly and improve yourself. And if the fact that you were kidnapped alongside her is any indication, you did your best to protect her as well. So you see, I know more about you than you might expect."

I don't know what to say. I didn't even know that she was keeping notes on me, let alone that they were so… complimentary. "Well, that's very kind of her to say about me. In truth, I don't really know how much credit I deserve. I did try to learn, yeah, but in the end I couldn't even help her to escape danger. We survived because we were saved by the Shepherds. Nothing I could have done would have helped by then."

He shakes his head slightly. "I don't just mean protecting her physically. The truth is that I am not, and have not been, a good father. Whether I am a good duke is for my people to decide, but it is a fact that for far too much of my daughter's life, I have not been there. I have spent so much time preparing for her future that I have missed many, many presents. With my darling Maureen's death, I felt as though I must go above and beyond to secure a good life for my daughter by whatever means were necessary. And so I have relied on others to care for her in the interim. You met many of those others. Isadora was the saving grace my family needed in the wake of my wife's passing."

He gestures to the villa behind me with a sweeping hand motion. "Even so, the fact remains that they were staff. They were hired to be around, and were it not for the wage I paid them, they almost certainly would have left to find employment elsewhere. Maribelle knew this, I think. When I would have the chance to come home, she often complained to me that she wished she had friends like other children. Naturally, when Princess Lissa extended her friendship to my daughter, I was relieved. But as they grew, they each had their own duties to attend to. They saw one another less and less. That old hunger for friends was rekindled in my daughter's heart, and I had no idea how I could possibly help."

He looks at me. "But you have been that friend for her. You clearly care for my Maribelle. And so for your kindness and consideration, I wish to extend to you a father's heartfelt thanks." He bows his head to me.

I set aside my plate and stand up, now looking down on him from several stairs up. "Please, Duke Osprey, there's no need for that. I didn't do anything special for Maribelle, really."

"I believe that is for Maribelle and her father to decide. I know from her journal that her mind is made up. And so is mine. So whether you accept my thanks or not, I'm afraid I must insist that you keep them," he replies with the first genuine smile I've seen from the man.

I sigh. I'm not proving to be very good at verbally outmaneuvering any of these guys today. I really must be tired. "Alright, then. You win."

* * *

Despite my sentimental chat with the duke, it turns out the rest of the gang here still doesn't really trust me. This is evidenced by the fact that I'm not being allowed to have a room to myself in the villa, and am instead being made to share a room with Vasto. I suppose it's technically better than staying in the makeshift barracks that have been set up in the former training hall, but even so, the message is clear.

The best thing about this arrangement is of course that Vasto hates it too. Even though he gets to keep the bed and I'm demoted to (admittedly comfy) couch accommodation, he dislikes the idea of sharing his sleeping space with anyone, let alone me. I'm making the most of this.

"Hey Vasto, just a heads-up before we hit the sack. I have been told by some over the years that I have a tendency to snore. Just so you know."

"Trust me, I know already. I heard plenty when we stopped on the way here, remember?" he grumbles, lying in bed and very pointedly not looking at me. I notice his prosthetic arm and leg leaning up against his bed. They look like they're probably made of metal, but I feel kind of weird asking about something like that when it's my fault he needs them in the first place. "Oh, and by the way. I'm a very light sleeper, and I've got a hand-axe ready to throw at you the moment you try anything. So I recommend not trying anything."

"Is it comfortable sleeping with an axe in your bed?"

"More comfortable than sleeping without one."

I nestle further into the couch, curling into my blanket. "Fair enough. Good night, Vasto."

"...Night."

"I love you~"

"I have an axe, Randall."

* * *

With the morning comes an idea that I'm kicking myself for not coming up with sooner. Why haven't I checked out _my_ room to see if anything comes up? The room I used to stay in, I mean, not the one I currently share with Vasto. I did spend a good deal of time there, if I'm remembering right (which God knows I might not be). I decide it's worth checking out regardless.

Distressingly, though, I find the door locked. I guess whoever's staying in here now is still in their room. I raise my hand to knock on the door, but as I do, someone clearing their throat to my right makes me pause. It's Vasto, leaning against the wall to give his leg a break.

"I wouldn't do that," he says, his voice quiet and flat.

"What? Why not? Who's staying here?"

"General Mustafa's wife, Lady Octavia. She's asked not to be disturbed."

Oh yeah, that's right. Mustafa did mention he has a wife and child. I guess they must have fled the country to come here in the aftermath of Emm's botched execution and Mustafa turning on the rest of Plegia.

"Why would she ask not to see anyone? Has Mustafa been caught or something?"

I'm caught by surprise when the door opens suddenly and the hallway is flooded with morning light from the bedroom windows. Contrasted against the bright light behind her is the figure of the woman I'm guessing is Octavia, standing in the doorway.

As my eyes adjust, I notice a few things about her. Firstly, and this normally isn't my thing, but she's basically a textbook milf. Despite being old enough to be Mustafa's wife, she's honestly gorgeous. Black, wavy hair falls in shining tendrils around her head, and her olive skin looks as young as any of the Shepherds'. She wears a black gown, which compliments her skin (and her figure) nicely. Her eyebrows are very dark and slightly thicker than average, but they add to the overall intensity of her expression.

Secondly, and less encouragingly, she looks both exhausted and miserable. She has some serious bags under her eyes, and she's sort of hunched in the shoulders as she leans out the door.

"Who are you?" she asks, her voice dry and cracked.

"O-oh, uh, sorry," I stammer, feeling in more than one way overwhelmed. This woman definitely has a presence. "My name is Randall. I'm, uh… I used to live here."

A moment of unbearable silence passes between us. In the meantime, I hear Vasto slowly clunk away as stealthily as he can.

"Here as in this room," I clarify, coughing a bit just to have a noise other than breathing between us.

"What, were you hoping I might clear out and give your bed back, or something?" she replies.

"Not exactly," I half-ask. "I guess I just wanted to see the room again. It's been a while."

She huffs. "Fine. If it will get you out of my hair. Just make it quick." She steps aside to let me in.

Wow. I'm amazed how little the room has changed. I remember long nights sitting in that chair in the corner, studying and poring over my materials that Maribelle gave me on the basics of staff magic. I would study by candlelight with the nearby window open to let some air in on the stuffy summer nights.

Thing is, though, I didn't really forget any of that. The room is exactly as I remembered it. I keep scanning the room for anything that might jog a memory loose.

It's only when Octavia shuts the door behind her as she comes back in that I remember that she's here at all.

"Can I help you with something?" she asks in an irritated tone.

"Not really, sorry. I'm just… hoping this place will help me remember something," I reply.

"Did you lose something?"

"In a way, yeah."

"Well hurry up and find it. I want to be left alone," she says, crossing to the chair in the corner and sitting impatiently.

"Did something happen?" I ask.

She stares at me for a moment. "You really don't know?"

"I guess not, apparently."

Her gaze moves to the floor, but her expression stays just as angry. "They killed him. That coward Gangrel had my husband executed."

My gut lurches forward. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I had no idea, I really didn't."

I was afraid she might start crying, but instead she stands so abruptly you could almost call it a jump. I inadvertently flinch as she storms over and gets in my face. "They killed him, just like that. No more than a week, a week and a half after his arrest was announced. We were sure that his arrest had been made public in an effort to draw us out, but it seems Gangrel just hadn't spilled enough blood this week and took it out on my husband. Do you know how much Mustafa did for that man? How much Mustafa and I _sacrificed_ to keep that little whelp on the throne and the people in line? In the four or five years immediately following Gideon's War, I swear my husband aged twenty. And that little… _shitstain_ has the nerve, the _audacity_ , to put Mustafa to death?"

My breath catches. It seems I accidentally lit the fuse on an emotional powder keg that's been begging to go off for a while.

She starts storming around the room. "Where would he be today if it hadn't been for Mustafa? Dead in a ditch somewhere, long ago rotten to the point of unrecognizability! The one who negotiated for peace between our nations? The one who helped keep the people in order? The one who _saved everyone_? That wasn't Gangrel! That was Mustafa! And _this_ is how his sacrifice is repaid?" She grabs one of the large, dense pillows off the bed and throws it furiously against the closet doors, making them rattle from the impact. "Oh, I hope peace doesn't come too quickly in this war. Not before I have a chance to see that gods-forsaken Gangrel burn for this. No wonder Mustafa wanted to do away with the king's position. He saw what treachery was in wait for him. He was just too good a man to throttle that little coward when he had the chance!" She throws another pillow, this time smacking the doors against the frame and swinging them open on the bounce.

She paces around wordlessly for a little while, breathing heavily while I watch in silent awe. Eventually, her breathing evens out a bit and she sits on her bedside. Her shoulders slump and she stares at the floor, her hair falling around her like a curtain.

"I'm sorry," she says, her voice raspy again. "I know it's nothing to do with you. I don't even remember your name, to be totally honest. And here I am shouting your ear off about something that doesn't concern you."

"I… I know it's not much consolation, but… I saw your husband, once. I'm a Shepherd. I was there when he gave the order to allow us to leave Plegia and get to safety. In a way, I owe him. And it wasn't lost on me how good a man he was. I really am sorry that this has happened," I say, not daring to move one step from where I was standing when she first went off.

She looks up at me, her face obscured by her hair. "You met him? He saved you?"

"He saved all of us. And his own men, too. He decided to shoulder the responsibility for both sides. He was braver than anyone I've met, Ylissean or Plegian."

She's silent for a long moment. "Thank you for telling me that. I'm glad to know that even in his last acts as a free man, he was helping people." She takes a deep breath, then straightens her back and brushes her hair out of her face with her fingers. "I'm sorry your first time meeting me, I had to be in such an… emotionally compromised state. I've ordinarily been called quite a charmer, if you can believe it." She laughs weakly.

"Actually, I have no trouble believing that," I say with an encouraging smile.

She gestures with a hand at the closet. "Could you be a dear and get me those pillows back? I think it's too early in the morning for me to be losing my temper this much. I'd like to see if I can't get some actual sleep this time around."

"Yeah, of course." I walk over to the closet, but as I pick up the pillows, a glint inside the closet catches my eye. Is that..? No fucking way.

I reach into the closet and pull the staff leaning against the back wall out. I examine the staff carefully. I didn't really know this when I first came to this world, because Christ knows I didn't ever pay attention to staff design when I played the actual game, but my initial staff actually doesn't look like the average Heal staff in this world. Where most Heal staves have a simple dark varnished shaft and a metal bottom base, with a bronze receiver for the orb up top arranged in a sort of looping plant-like pattern, and Mend staves are similar except the bronze is replaced with silver and the receiver is more ornately designed, mine is different for a few reasons. It's a good deal heavier, because the whole shaft is solid metal as opposed to a metal tang that runs the full length of the shaft but is surrounded by hardened wood. The metal is give or take the color of cast iron, maybe a shade or two brighter. The receiver is exceptionally minimalist; just a ridged semi-sphere of metal that holds the Heal orb in place without any carvings or other decorations. Down the length of the shaft there are some faint spiral carvings, sort of like a barber pole, but I think those are just to give a better grip.

The metal is cold and heavy in my hands.

* * *

" _Hey Mindy, have you seen my staff anywhere? I can't find it," I call after her as she walks down the hallway past my bedroom._

 _She turns to look at me, her face reddening for some reason. "Oh, my apologies, Mister Randall. You left it in the training hall after your session with Lady Maribelle yesterday, so I decided to take it and clean some of the, um, blood off of it. Let me go get that for you."_

" _Oh, you can just tell me where it is, you don't have to get it! You already cleaned it for me and all," I protest, but she holds up a hand to silence me._

" _Not a trouble at all. In the meantime, I suggest you return to your room. You've, um… forgotten something," she says, then hurries off down the stairs._

 _I look down and realize what she meant. Pants. I forgot pants. That explains the blush._

 _I hurry back to my room and yank my black pants on hastily, trying to will the excess blood in my cheeks to resume its prior duties. It's not having it._

 _Before too long, Mindy returns. "Here you are, Mister Randall."_

" _Aw, come on, Mindy. We still doing this? I'm Randy. I told the others I'm Randall, but the truth is I've gone by Randy basically my whole life. It's the name I'm more comfortable with my friends using."_

" _I just… I don't know, I can't! It's a breach of station, to get this… familiar with one of milady's guests," she replies, shifting around from foot to foot, holding the staff with both hands._

" _Familiar? It's a nickname, Mindy. It's just something… friends do, you know?"_

" _You really want to be my… friend?" she asks, the redness from before returning to her face._

" _We've talked about this before, Mindy. I definitely want to be friends with you."_

" _I know we have, it's just… I've never really been around girls my age aside from Lady Maribelle. Or boys for that matter. And she's kind, of course, but she's also, well, my employer. Not exactly my friend. So to have someone say that they like me enough to want to be my friend is honestly kind of new."_

" _Of course I do! I like you a lot! You've always been nice to me, but without… I dunno, making me feel like a kid. Maribelle treats me like the idiot student I am, which is fine, because I am, and your mom is supremely nice, but in a sort of pampering way. Captain Jackson makes me scared for my safety, which also makes me feel like a kid. You just treat me like… me. I'm more comfortable around you than anyone, I think," I say, heat returning to my cheeks as well. I'm having a difficult time meeting her eye, but then again, so is she._

" _That's… good to know. I'm glad I can be a source of comfort to you," she says._

" _Y-yeah."_

 _We both stand silently for a moment._

" _You've, uh, still got the staff."_

" _Ah! You're right! I'm sorry! Here!" She holds it out to me like it's a snake in her hands. I grab it just as hastily. "I should probably go. Lots to get done yet today, and all." She starts toward the door._

 _Without giving myself another moment to think, I grab the hand that's not reaching for the doorknob. "Mindy, hang on a second. I wanna say something."_

 _She hesitates for a moment, then turns back around, still hanging onto my hand. "Yes?"_

" _I don't just like you enough to want to be your friend. I want to…" The words die in my throat, like I feared they might._

" _Be more?" she finishes my thought._

" _Yeah," I say._

 _I don't know who moves first. But the gap is closed, and our lips meet. It's only after a second or so that I realize the staff is still awkwardly sandwiched between our chests, but even when I let go of it to wrap my other arm around her waist, the closeness between us keeps it suspended. We're so focused on trying to tie a knot with our tongues that we don't pay it any mind until gravity finally wins and it falls with a thump to the floor between our feet._

 _The sound startles us into pulling apart. We both look at each other hungrily for a moment, but then she says something that surprises me._

" _This isn't a good idea."_

" _What, afraid your mom will find us?"_

 _She blinks. "Well, yes, now that you mention it. But I mean generally. We can't let ourselves do this."_

" _Why not?"_

" _It's not like I don't want to. I do. But you're a Shepherd. You won't be here for long."_

" _Well, maybe not. Maybe I don't want to leave." By now we've both more or less calmed down a bit from the moment of passion that overtook us there._

" _What do you mean, don't want to leave? You have a job you're training for! You can't just leave that behind for… well, me," she says, exasperated._

" _And why not? Why can't I get a job here and be just as useful here as I would out there? It's not like I'm exactly a prodigy at this, you know. Most of the time I think I started learning way too late to make a difference anyway. At this rate, I'll be a third-string Shepherd at best, warming up the coffee for the real healers while they do the real work," I say._

" _Better there than here!"_

" _Why?"_

" _Because you're a healer! You're needed out there, with Lady Maribelle, fighting for our countrymen! Even if you think you might not be as skilled as Lady Maribelle or Princess Lissa, you stand a better chance of saving our people traveling with them than you do cooped up here. You'll be much more useful out there than you'd be… wasting away in this place." She looks down._

" _Hey, come on. I don't want you denigrating the work you do here. It's plenty important as well, you know," I protest._

" _Don't patronize me just because you fancy me, Randall. I know the work I do is less important than what you will go on to do. And I'm alright with that. I've never regretted my life here before, and I don't mean to start now."_

 _I don't know what to say for a moment. Eventually I come to a decision. "I don't think you should regret it. And you're right. I do have important work to do too. But maybe, when all's said and done…"_

 _She smiles. "If the Plegians are scared off by the Feroxi force the Shepherds are assembling, and you succeed in ending their threat, then when you come back here, we can revisit… this."_

" _When I come back here… yeah. I think I can wait that long," I say._

 _Of course I know I'm talking out of my ass. Or at least, I think I am. Maybe not, though. Maybe this world won't follow the game just because it has so far. Why shouldn't I be allowed to hope that Chrom and the others can end this threat before it begins? That I could have a normal life with this sweet girl, far away from the cares of an evil king and an apocalypse cult? I've seen battles, now. I've felt death. I've had my fill, I think._

" _One more for the road, before we go back to pretending we're just a student and a maid?" I ask._

 _She giggles. "Fine. One more."_

* * *

"Um, excuse me? Hello? Are you alright?"

But I'm not alright. I notice now that I'm on my knees in front of the closet, holding the staff close like it's a person, and my face is wet with tears.

"Is that… the thing you had lost?" Octavia asks cautiously.

I take a minute or so to pull myself together. "Yeah. I think it was," I eventually manage to say. "I think I'm gonna go. Sorry for disturbing you."

"Oh, it was… no trouble. Thank you. For letting me loose my anger on you, even for a moment," she says.

"Any time," I reply as I head for the door.

There's one more place I know I need to visit today.

* * *

It took some digging, because as it turns out, not a lot of people left around here actually knew Melinda, Isadora, or Jackson, let alone where they were buried. But eventually I was able to work out that they were allowed to be buried in the Osprey family plot as a reward for their outstanding service and as a repayment for death in the line of duty. While it is just barely southwest of the property, and therefore technically beyond the range of the 'Henry must blast my head off' zone, I'm being accompanied by… ugh… Vasto, so I'm allowed to venture out this far. Apparently they figure since he was able to kidnap me and transport me here without any incident, he's by default the best handler for me in general. Thankfully, he's agreed to keep his distance a bit.

When I find the cemetery, it's not difficult to locate the headstones of the security guys and the servants who died. Their stones are identical in shape and much newer than the others. Fifteen in all, three rows of five. The stone farthest to the right in the first row is Isadora's. I notice it's actually larger than the others, no doubt due to her long decades of service.

 **ISADORA BARNABY**

 **LOVING WIFE**

 **LOVING MOTHER**

 **LEFT THE WORLD**

 **BETTER THAN SHE FOUND IT**

I look to its right, and notice that even though the stone is much older, there's another Barnaby here.

 **LINUS BARNABY**

 **LOVING HUSBAND**

 **LOVING FATHER**

 **FAMILY ABOVE ALL**

That must be Isadora's husband. I realize I never really got to hear about the guy much. I regret not asking about him when I had the chance.

And now, though I can barely bring myself to look at it, I turn to the stone to the left of Isadora's.

 **MELINDA BARNABY**

 **BELOVED DAUGHTER**

 **CHERISHED FRIEND**

Looking at the stone feels like a punch to the stomach. To have memories that felt so fresh, so real, to know how earnestly I felt the desire to leave the war behind, and yet to have the reality of what became of her in front of me…

" _Do you know now what you did to her?"_

"Yes. I allowed myself to turn my back on the memory of her. Of everyone here. But especially her. And the dream I had. The promise I made her. I allowed myself to forget all these things. To turn this life into a game rather than face my own failure to save the ones I had come to care for. I retreated into the childish illusion that this was all a game, that none of it truly mattered. And even when I learned what a mistake it had been to do that, my memories still remained shuttered. I was holding myself back."

" _And now?"_

"Not anymore. I will never allow myself to forget this. The friends I made here. The love I felt. It's a part of me. And I will never give that up again."

I get no reply.

And now, facing the enormity of my loss for the first time, I fall to my knees onto the frosty grass in front of Mindy's stone. For the second time since I came to this world, I start sobbing.

* * *

 **A/N: So, we meet again. My streak of pumping out chapters at a decent clip continues, but no promises on this lasting forever. I've just been really excited to get some of this stuff out there, even more than usual. Also, first chapter in a loooong time that never breaks from Randall's POV, so do with that tidbit what you will.**

 **My thanks as always to Mixed Valence, without whom a particularly heartwarming scene in this chapter would probably have come across as just being sorta creepy instead. It's a fine line, ladies and gents, but this time I was saved from treading it too carelessly. NotTheArchitect and Ezedric also have my thanks for giving me the green light on this chapter before I shipped it out! You'd best be reading Earthborne and The Divine Age, because they are both worthy of your time, you have my word (for whatever that's worth). AND HERE IS YOUR MIXED VALENCE OUT OF CONTEXT QUOTE OF THE WEEK THAT I DEFINITELY DIDN'T FORGET OR ANYTHING: "Shame on you, this mommy dresses appropriately for her age."**

 **The Discord has seen a LOT of fresh faces since my last chapter went up, and everyone who's part of it has helped make it one of the most fun groups I've been part of in a long time. We talk, share memes, argue about petty nonsense, and do our best to make each other better writers, better readers, and better artists. It's been a seriously great time, and the doors are still open as long as you're cool (which, let's be real, if you've made it this far, you probably are :3)**

 **As always, comments and critiques are welcome! See you next time!**

 **The link provided here if you'd still like to join us: discord. gg /3mdunvc**


	33. Ch 33: Robin Takes a Magical Nap

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 33: Robin Takes a Magical Nap**

" _Was he one of yours?" Gangrel demands, furiously shaking a fist. "That son of a whore was one of your accomplices all along, wasn't he?"_

" _I'm sure I don't know what, or whom, you're talking about," Mustafa replies calmly._

" _That damned Vasto! I gave him strict orders to have that Ylissean priest transported_ here _, but the guards have seen neither Vasto nor the priest anywhere. He's disappeared without a trace," Gangrel says, pacing anxiously. Even though Mustafa has been moved to occupy a small, secret room adjoining Gangrel's personal chamber, with considerably better lighting and decor, the improved atmosphere does little for Gangrel's nerves right now._

 _Mustafa shakes his head sadly. "What a pity. Vasto is such a dedicated soldier, even after the incident that cost him his arm and his leg. Very few riders could come back from that and continue to perform on the battlefield."_

" _He_ is _one of yours, isn't he? I should have known all along. He was under your command once. I should liquidate everyone you have ever had command over, just to be safe," Gangrel says venomously._

 _Mustafa grows indignant. "Is that what you want, Gangrel? A command structure built on fear and doubt, even to the point where you must always distrust them in turn? I can see some merit in a system in which your men both fear and respect you, their commander, but for you to be forced to fear your own subordinates? Have you any grip on this country at all?"_

" _Have I any grip? I conquered Ylisse in full in a matter of weeks!" Gangrel spits back._

" _Is that why you left for Ylisse to engage with the Shepherds, only to come back looking like a kicked dog? Did your expedition there yield anything outside of more death? You didn't even capture a single prisoner to use to engage in bargaining for surrender or peace negotiations. You have no play. Is this what you call control?" Despite the manacles still binding his wrists and the chain keeping those manacles close to the wall, he still seems to have more command over the room as he stands straighter and more confident than the king._

" _I know where the Shepherds are going to be next. We intercepted a message from one of the Shepherds that detailed their plans for the campaign to retake Ylisstol and use it as the base of operations for reclaiming the rest of the country. Your old friend General Campari is on the way there right now to oversee the defense of the city before the Shepherds have time to get there. They'll have a nasty surprise waiting for them by the time they arrive," Gangrel gloats._

 _If Mustafa could cross his arms, he would have. "Is that meant to impress me? Why do you want my approval for any of this, anyway? For that matter, why am I still alive? I was promised that my execution was an absolute consequence of my failure to cooperate with you, but here I am. In fact, you've upgraded my accommodations."_

 _Gangrel growls in frustration, but can't articulate an answer._

" _I'll tell you my hypothesis, then. I think you're starting to realize that this war leads nowhere. It gains you nothing but the perpetuation of pain and death for our people. The problems you thought that this war would fix are still there, and now you see you're making the same mistakes the ones before us made. Except this time, you're not acting the role of King Hartyr, defender of Plegia; you play the role of Exalt Gideon, the bloodthirsty tyrant who instigates the conflict and keeps it fueled. In your effort to seek vengeance for the crimes of Gideon, you have become him. And you know this. And you see that I was right."_

 _Gangrel shouts in anger and raises his hand to strike Mustafa, but relents. Whether out of mercy, or out of awareness that it would hurt his hand more than it would likely hurt Mustafa, the ex-general cannot say. Instead, Gangrel leaves without another word, slamming the door behind him._

 _Mustafa sighs, taking a seat against the wall. He wonders how Octavia and Mikkel are getting on without him. As much as he trusts Aventine and the others to take care of his family, he would give almost anything to see them right now._

* * *

 _Getting Robin to bed last night proved difficult. The moment we got back to the manor, she went straight to the command wagon to try and begin drafting a plan to get Randall back. Just about dead on her feet with fatigue, barely writing anything coherent, but unwilling to sleep or take a break for even a moment. It was only when Stahl and I physically took away her writing implements and maps that she agreed to take a short rest. Maribelle guided her back to her room in the manor and saw to it that she was under the covers before she left the room._

 _Despite all that, before the sun's up again, Robin is back in her wagon again. I don't know how long she's been here, but as I come in, she looks up at me with bags under her eyes that suggest she didn't actually stay in her room for very long._

" _Before you say anything, Chrom, I know. Going into Plegia after Randall would be suicide," she says as I shut the door behind me._

" _I wasn't going to say that, actually. I was going to ask if you're okay," I say in an attempt at a soothing tone._

" _Oh. Well yes, of course. I just want to make sure we're clear on the plan. We still have to retake Ylisstol, right away," she says, looking back to her maps and charts and shuffling them around a bit._

" _We do? I thought for sure you'd be hell-bent on getting Randall back as soon as we can." I don't know if I'm relieved to hear her say that or not._

" _I am. And that's why we need to secure a firm base of power first."_

 _I can't help but cock my head a little. "I don't think I follow."_

" _Look," she says as she rifles through her papers, looking for some specific chart or other, "it's all about motivation and goals. Why did the Plegians kidnap Randall? Was it just to take him back and give him a more gruesome death than he would have had on the battlefield? Possible, but unlikely, given their current situation. No, the chances are more than good that they took him because they hope they can leverage us using him. If they dangle him over us, demand a surrender under threat of his execution, that's a stronger case than nothing, which is what they had before. It's essentially the Emmeryn ploy, except this time directed at me instead of you. Well, maybe not deliberately, but in effect that's the case."_

" _Wait. Are you saying the Plegians think they're losing this war? Even though they control all the land and most of the people across our two countries?" I ask._

" _Of course. They've lost a great deal of momentum. They've let themselves become stagnant, and soon the cost of maintaining a dominion hastily won will catch up with them. Think of it like this. For us to retake Ylisstol, how many times to we have to win?"_

" _Once?" I half-ask._

" _And how many times do the Plegians have to win to keep Ylisstol under their control?"_

" _Also once?"_

" _No. They have to win every single time someone comes knocking. By taking and occupying the entire country in such a short time, they have the illusion of control, but what they've really done is make every place a viable target without establishing a solid base of control anywhere. Rebellious sentiment is still no doubt very high among the Ylissean people, and unlike the Plegians, it doesn't matter if they think Emmeryn is alive or dead. Either one stirs a fighting spirit for them. If she's dead, she's a martyr, and if she's alive, they want to fight to get her back."_

 _I decide to take a seat while she's talking, since it seems she's got a lot to say. "What does any of this have to do with capturing Randall?" I ask._

" _They're looking for an easy out. A way to get us to give up the fight so they can quit worrying about our inevitable uprising to take Ylisse back. They hope that by holding a blade to Randall's throat, they can get us to cooperate with them. But that only works if they have us in a position where we have no recourse. The greater our position of relative strength, the better our chances of getting him back alive."_

" _I'm still not seeing it. Are you saying we need to take Plegian prisoners and hold them at swordpoint too?"_

 _She shrugs. "If necessary, yes. Turnabout is always fair play." The casualness of her statement gives me a chill down my spine. "In any event, they'll have no reason to listen to us if we don't retake enough territory to be a viable threat. For now, we are an annoyance. An enemy that is proving difficult to kill but not strong enough to pose a serious threat to their dominion. But if we start taking Ylisse back, all that changes. We bring a stronger presence to the negotiating table."_

" _So… in order to save Randall, you want to make sure we look suitably scary to the Plegians? What if that just makes them want to kill him more?" I ask._

" _If they're smart, it won't. Executing someone you have prisoner just to get a rise out of the enemy is a mistake. A living hostage is always a useful commodity, but a corpse isn't."_

" _And if they kill him right away and lie to us about him being alive?"_

 _She slams her hands onto the table suddenly. "Then they do, Chrom! I can't account for everything, okay? I'm doing the best I can with what I have, and that's all I can do!"_

 _I almost stand up to try and calm her down, but then I think that might be counterproductive. Instead, I just gesture with my hands to try and tamp down her emotions. "Hey, I'm sorry. I don't mean to stress you out any more than you already are. I'm just trying to help if I can."_

" _I know that," she snaps, then takes a deep breath. "It's just… this is literally the worst thing that could have happened, Chrom."_

" _Is it, though? No one among the Shepherds died, even though we were caught in a huge ambush. We fought them off and sent them packing with a huge loss under their belt. It's far from ideal, but surely you prefer this to if we had found his corpse out there in that field."_

 _She sniffs. "Yeah, of course. I just mean losing one of the Shepherds, in any context. Kidnapping, death, permanent disability. You get it."_

 _Alright, as both her commander and her friend, I have to draw a line somewhere. She isn't talking sense anymore. "Robin, I think you haven't rested enough. We're going to get on the road fairly soon, and the moment we do, I order you to get out your bedroll and sleep for several hours before you do anything else. Is that clear?"_

 _She frowns at me for a few moments, waiting to see if I relent. I don't. "Fine. As you command."_

 _I nod approvingly and start to head for the door. "I'll let everyone know that the plan hasn't changed. Sleep well, Robin."_

" _Okay," she says as I step outside. Before I've gotten two paces from the wagon, I hear the sound of boxes of papers moving around already. So much for that._

* * *

 _I can't. Not yet. That'll be admitting defeat. I don't want to._

 _I know I have to. I know. And if what Marth said is true, he was unconscious when they took him anyway. He'll have set a new respawn point by now, I'm sure._

 _But he might not have. Maybe he was actually dead and being loaded onto that wyvern. Maybe he's waiting on me to get moving onto the second run. It's possible. I might be sealing his death if I go to sleep._

 _The thought sends a fresh wave of terror down my spine and wakes me up all over again._

 _I hate this. I hate this so much. I want to scream._

" _Hello, Robin."_

 _I scream. Not for the reason I thought I would, though; Tharja just startled me. I stop just short of kicking her in the face._

" _Tharja! What the hell are you doing in here?" I snap._

" _I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with Chrom. It sounded pretty serious," she says._

" _You were lis— you know what," I shake my head, "that's not so surprising, actually. I'm not happy about this, though, Tharja. You can't just listen in on my private conversations like that."_

" _Well, how was I to know it was meant to be private? You never said so," she replies with a frown that borders on a pout._

" _I didn't think that was necessary. I guess I'll keep it in mind for the future," I grumble. "What do you need?"_

" _Like I said, it's not about what I need at all. It's about what you need. You need to get some rest, but can't seem to convince yourself to sleep," she says._

" _Look, all that is true, but there's more to it than that, Tharja. It's not so simple."_

" _Oh, but it could be. After all, I've known you for a long time. Casting a simple sleep hex would be very easy, especially if you were willing. I could do it right now," she replies in a weirdly seductive tone._

 _I consider for a moment. What are the chances he's been killed? I spent all night going over it again and again in my head, and my own intuition combined with Marth's information about the state Randall was in when he was taken points to the only sensible conclusion being that he's alive. Even so, the chance that he's not is nonzero. I don't like it. I hate not knowing, and having no way of knowing._

 _But there's nothing I can do about it. This is the hand I've been dealt. Chrom's right; either way, I won't be able to find him before my body succumbs to exhaustion anyway. If he's dead… he's dead._

 _And I have to be prepared to guide this team into battle either way._

" _Alright. Do it."_

 _She grins alarmingly wide. "Don't you go anywhere. I'll be just a minute." She slips quietly out the door without another word._

 _I try to sit down and relax, but my leg won't stop jittering, and eventually I give up and start pacing again. I try not to think about anything. For all the good that does. Four or five minutes later, Tharja returns, holding a small canvas sack._

" _I've got everything I need in here. I keep the ingredients for more basic curses on hand for daily use. And the sleep hex is relatively easy. I won't even need a proper ritual fire." She holds up a piece of tome parchment. "A simple Fire spell is enough to get the job done."_

" _So how does this work?" I ask, suddenly feeling quite nervous again as she grins at me._

" _Nothing truly spectacular for a ritual of this magnitude. All it will take is me burning this bag along with all of the ingredients inside. I'll also be reciting an incantation, and then you should immediately feel extremely sleepy. Completely harmless, I assure you," she says, which of course just makes me worry more when she feels the need to point that out._

 _Even so, I swallow my trepidation. "Alright, sounds good. Go for it."_

" _You should get comfortable first. Like I said, the effects are more or less instantaneous."_

 _I get out my bedroll from the back corner of the wagon and lay it out. It feels a little strange as I shed my coat and boots and lie down with Tharja sitting on her knees next to me. She hovers over me, kind of like a strangely enthusiastic mother putting her child to bed. I can vaguely smell whatever's inside her bag of hex ingredients in her hand; it's a sort of rank, rotten smell, like spoiled fruit._

" _You ready to sleep?" Tharja asks._

 _I sigh. This is me putting my trust in Marth, I guess. "Yeah."_

" _Have a nice rest, Robin. I'll be right here," Tharja coos._

" _That's comforting," I say, attempting to mask my sarcasm._

 _She giggles quietly as she lights up the spell and holds the fire underneath the bag in her other hand. She starts chanting some strange, inarticulate set of words in an alarmingly low, sinister-sounding tone, and true to her word, as the ingredients bag turns to ash in her hand, I feel a sort of strange, warm weight pulling down on my body. My limbs lose their nervous energy and I grow sluggish. My eyes give way in mere seconds as unnatural sleep takes hold of me like a dark embrace._

* * *

"Alright, Aventine, I need you to lay some stuff out for me."

"And what might that be?" he replies patiently, his hands folded on the desk in front of him. Duke Hadrian has set him up with a little command center/office on the west side of the building, a well-lit but sparsely decorated room with a singular large desk and a couple chairs. He occupies the one on the other side of the desk, while I have entered the office unannounced and staked a claim on one of the two on the side closer to the door.

"I want to know why you thought I'd be willing to support your cause. You couldn't have known that I knew what a republic was and all that other junk. You didn't know that I would even partially agree with your vision for the country. So what were you banking on leveraging to get me to join your side?" I ask.

"Well, it's quite simple. Our goal and the Shepherds' goal are one in the same thing, at least for the time being."

"What do you mean?"

"The next step for our group before we move concretely into the implementation of our plan is to have the Plegian army expelled from Ylisse. We cannot allow Gangrel to gain any more power or influence, or else we risk him becoming too strong to topple. You also want to drive the Plegians out. We are alike in this."

"Doesn't Gangrel have a ton of enemies among his own people, though? I would think having a singular unpopular king on the throne who at least nominally controls everything would be a pretty ideal setup for you guys. One enemy to focus your hate on, and all."

"An astute point. However, we are not attempting to create a superstate. As much as we believe Plegia and Ylisse should be allies, we are not so daft as to think that they're culturally similar enough to sustain a permanent union. No, the countries and their domains must remain autonomous, else the people might panic and call us interlopers from the other side, bent on erasing their local cultures forever. Furthermore, we wish to have prominent members of both sides of the eventual peace negotiations be members of our group. If the people see us as the ones who negotiate peace, they will be more willing to trust us when we expel those who currently occupy seats of royal status in both countries."

You know, this kind of sounds familiar. I remember what Chrom told me about the end of Gideon's War. How Aventine and Mustafa, along with General Campari and Emmeryn, had been the major architects of the peace deal. "You've tried this before, haven't you?"

His eyes widen slightly. "I see you've also studied a bit of history in addition to political theory. Likely from one of your infamous inside sources, it seems. Yes, this is not the first time we have attempted this. And if it hadn't been for Gangrel's meteoric rise in popularity among his people and my… inability to resolve matters on the Ylissean end, we may have succeeded. Many lives could have been saved. But now we have a second chance."

I wonder what he means by 'inability to resolve matters.' Though I suspect I won't be told just yet. "So aside from yourself, what prominent members from both sides have you managed to get recruited? Especially since Mustafa… well, you know. And you're under a fair amount of suspicion as well. You have anyone else lined up?"

"Well, loathe as I am to share anything that privileged with you, I suppose you've at least a right to know who you're being asked to work for. For the Ylisseans, we have gained the confidence of the captain of the royal guard, Phila. Her loyalty to the Ylissean people is beyond reproach, as is her standing among the upper class in Ylisse."

"Wait, _that_ Phila? She's working for you guys? Why?"

"Well, her reasons are her own, I suppose. But I suspect that anyone who saw the horrors of Gideon's War and carries a guilty conscience could be swayed to a cause that aims to prevent the next war from occurring."

Jeez, this really is the coalition of folks who should have been dead by now. "And for the Plegians?"

Aventine glances off to the side for a moment, as if in slight shame. "Well, it was more difficult in Plegia's case. General Campari could not be swayed, and soon it proved too dangerous to hint any further at what we were planning. And outside of him, there are relatively few secular leaders in the country that would dream of standing up to Gangrel. So we were required to look to the other major faction of influence in Plegia."

Oh, hold up just a minute. "Are you saying you've been working with the _Grimleal_? The death-god-worshipping apocalypse cultists?"

Aventine speaks quickly to try to calm me. "I know how it sounds. I'm no fan of the idea myself, especially since it's a theocracy that I wish to avoid in the first place. But they have proven surprisingly willing to play along with our ideas thus far. We used to be in communication with their leader, a man known as Validar, through our mutual contact, a priest named Chalard. But then the Shepherds killed Chalard, and we lost contact with Validar."

I sit back in my chair, good and angry. "Yeah, you have me to thank for that. I took Chalard's head off. And I don't say this about a lot of people, but I'd do it again. You know he took slaves, right?"

"I am fully aware. It was never my idea to associate with them in the first place. But outside of Gangrel and his generals, at least one of whom is dead, probably both, there are no other figures in Plegian society influential enough to rally the people. We have to work with what we've been given, however little it may be," Aventine replies sharply.

"You expect me to work with you guys when you've been in cahoots with the goddamn Grimleal, of all people? You must think I'm pretty fucking stupid, huh?"

"It's not as though I'm hiding that fact from you, Randall. I'm being open about the fact that we are working with them, and the fact that I am not happy about it. What more do you want?"

"Uhh, for you not to work with them? Can't you see that the reason they're so willing to work for you is that they're actually just using you? You're a vehicle for them, a path to greater influence for themselves!"

"I suppose you prefer Gangrel, then? Or maybe you prefer mass chaos?"

"Create a new influential class! Former nobles or military or intellectuals or _something_. But drop the doomsday cult!"

"Do you suppose it's that easy? Just creating a new social class from thin air?"

"Well, we'll just have to figure something out, then."

Aventine smiles. "You said 'we.' Does that mean you will indeed work with us?"

I throw the back of my head against the backrest of the chair. "You guys have a real talent for pissing me off, you know that?"

He just smiles wider. I'm coming to hate that smile, I think.

I sit up again. "So, for helping the Shepherds. What did you have in mind?"

* * *

" _Uuungh," I moan as consciousness slowly returns to me._

 _Even behind my closed eyelids, I find the room too bright, and with some effort, flip myself onto my stomach and bury my face into my pillow._

 _Wait. This isn't my pillow. I squeeze it; definitely fabric, but… more supple than I'm used to. Someone above my head laughs through their nose._

 _My eyes snap open. I was right. This isn't my pillow. It's Tharja's leg._

 _I yelp and scramble away from her, feeling my face instantly start burning. "Th-Tharja! What are you doing?"_

 _She's got a similar redness to her cheeks, but by her expression, she looks considerably more pleased than I am. "I wasn't doing a thing, Robin. I promise. You, however, are a different story. I forgot how much of a sleep-cuddler you are." She giggles again. "And I wasn't about to stop you."_

 _I open my mouth to speak, but the words catch in my throat. My tongue feels like it's tripled in weight. I could swear my face is about to catch fire._

" _You're a mumbler, too. So many half-thoughts and little secrets~"_

 _Oh gods. Strike me down now._

" _Tharja, I…" I give myself a second to re-gather my thoughts. "Just, let's not tell anyone about this, alright?"_

 _She smiles. "My lips are sealed."_

 _I hasten to get my coat and boots back on, clumsily rolling up my bedroll and tossing it back into the corner. "I'm gonna go walk for a while," I say, heading for the door. I think a blast of December air might be exactly what I need right now._

* * *

I've been keeping my meditation routine up for the few days that I've been here. I appreciate it more and more every time I get the chance to do it. It gives me a chance to take a step back from my own mind for a while, which lately is a bigger blessing than ever. As much as I'm thankful that I was finally able to regain my memories of this place and the people I knew here, the fact remains that those memories were and are still painful. That on top of the mounting stress about what I'm meant to do to help the Shepherds while being kept prisoner by my ex-girlfriend's dad and his republican traitor buddies has been… a lot. I miss my friends so much already.

Not that it's been all bad here, though. I've been kept pretty busy, too. Vasto wasn't lying when he said the coup crew has been in need of a healer. I learn that the old training hall in which I first learned my healing technique has been repurposed into a sort of infirmary for the guys who go out on missions to destabilize the military grip that Plegia has on Ylisse (at least, I've been promised that they've all been anti-Plegia missions; I remain skeptical on that point). For the most part, it's espionage missions, but when things escalate to violence, as I learn they often do, our guys frequently come home hurt.

Part of what keeps me busy is that these guys aren't coming home with fresh wounds that they just opened up. As a matter of maintaining the secrecy of this group's location, when people go out on missions, they take long and winding paths back here. By the time I get to see someone's wounds, they're usually several days old. By that time, infection has often begun to set in, meaning my job becomes a lot harder. See, healing someone is one thing; closing up a sliced leg or mending a broken arm is easy. But an infection isn't by itself damage. It's just bacteria or other microorganisms hanging out inside you. Life inside life. Only the symptoms are actual damage. Which means that if someone's wound gets infected, I often have to heal that person many times over while their immune system does battle with whatever obnoxious little asshole has taken up residence in their bodies. Their lives aren't in danger, necessarily, since I can cure the damage as it comes. But it does mean that instead of being healed and done in minutes, I keep having to visit the same folks every day to mitigate the damage that their lingering infections are causing for their bodies.

As much as I hate to see folks in pain, I will say that it's good practice to keep up my healing skills. And it is damn satisfying to be using my personal staff again. It feels nice and weighty in my hand, like I'm literally pushing their wounds closed. The guys I've been healing seem pleasant enough, and none of them are particularly put-off when they learn I'm a Shepherd.

I get better acquainted with a few of the higher-ups in the organization as well. In truth, Duke Hadrian doesn't seem like a bad guy. He sort of strikes me as a sort of Virion, minus most of the womanizing habit. He's pompous and a little condescending toward those less wealthy than him, which is almost everybody, but he doesn't seem to mean anything necessarily negative by it. I can tell that he's not the one who built his family's fortune or influence; he definitely inherited it. As a result, he doesn't seem to be able to conceive of a world in which his family doesn't occupy the position of high social standing that they do now. Still, I can tell that he does legitimately care for Maribelle, and that earns him points with me.

Aventine remains as cryptic and annoying as ever, but he does seem to think that he's doing the right thing for everyone. I keep probing him for some clue as to what his motive in all of this, but so far he's been sticking by his assertion that it's all for the greater good. I don't buy it for a second. He's got a stake in this somehow. And I suspect he must know more about the end of the last war than he lets on.

Octavia is an interesting woman. At first I had planned to just leave her to her grieving in peace and solitude, but I was surprised when a couple days after our first encounter, she sought me out specifically. Our emotionally charged first meeting the other day must have given her the idea that having someone to talk about your grief with is a good idea, because when we sat down to tea, she rattled off story after story about how romantic and kind her husband had been. Apparently, Mustafa had been quite the Casanova in his day, evidenced by her admission that he's actually twelve years older than her. It was nice to see her actually smile when she talked about the early days of her relationship with him. When she smiles, the strain and grief are shed from her face, and she looks years younger. I thought she was a milf before, but when glimpses of the happy person she used to be manage to peek through, my heart just about melts.

In return, I confide in her a few stories about my time here. As my memories slowly return and I flesh out some of my encounters with Mindy and the others in my mind, I'm gradually able to share some of my fonder memories with Octavia. The smiles don't last forever, though, reminding both of us that we're in mutual grieving, and we have a long healing process ahead of us. We agree to have tea again soon, and both leave the exchange feeling better about our respective situations. There aren't many that I truly trust here, but if I had to pick anyone who seems to really get me, I'd probably say it's her.

Vasto, on the other hand, remains a dickhead. He's obstinate, impatient, stubborn, and disagreeable. While this does make him a drag to be roommates with, it also makes him a super easy target for button-pushing, which I'm more than happy to do. I'm pretty convinced that he hates me, but he hasn't tried to kill me yet, most likely because he's aware that I'm a necessary part of the plan.

Still, I have to admire him. He reminds me of Frederick in his determination not to allow his injury to define him. I learn that his prosthetics are made of a mixture of dense wood and metal, making them tough yet not as heavy as solid metal would be. Of course, they can't be controlled much, and walking is visibly difficult for him. He has to sort of throw his hip into every step with his left leg, and he's quick to put his weight back on his right side. There's a sort of half-joint at where the knee would be, and it allows him to put his leg in the stirrup properly when he rides on Kinba, his wyvern partner. It also makes dragging his leg forward easier when he's tired. It doesn't bend backwards, like a real leg, as there's a little metal flap that catches the prosthetic before it bends any further in that direction. It's really very clever in its design.

The arm is similar. He keeps a leather and metal harness around his shoulder most of the time that his prosthetic hooks into, and from there it moves more or less as freely as an arm does. The hand is steel, shaped into a pseudo-fist, leaving about an inch-and-a-half-wide hole, like he's constantly making a zero with his hand. When I ask why he bothers with a prosthetic arm that can't actually grasp anything, he explains (after rolling his eyes in what I'm coming to realize is his customary fashion) that it serves two main purposes. When he's on the ground, it serves as a counterweight to his other arm, preventing him from losing his balance or inordinately strengthening one side of his body over the other. When he's on Kinba, he hooks the 'zero' grip hand into a custom rein harness he had crafted for her. This prevents him from falling off her back, obviously, but it also functions as his steering mechanism. He must have a crazy strong bond with Kinba, because when he's hooked in, all it takes is the slightest movement of his shoulder, and Kinba knows exactly what he wants her to do. Watching him in the air, you wouldn't know he's flying with a prosthetic arm at all. Meanwhile, his other hand is of course free to wield his axe so he can participate in combat without worry.

I come to learn that he spends about as much time as possible with Kinba. She's definitely a beast with the same mindset as her rider, because she regards me equally coldly. But seeing the way she warms up when he hobbles over to her to pat her snout or feed her her dinner is pretty wholesome, I can't lie. He takes at least as good care of her as he does himself.

I will begrudgingly admit that he's a badass. Not that I'd ever tell him that, of course.

If there's anyone that I've been frankly trying to avoid, it would be Henry. I know, I know, he's a fan-favorite and if the fanbase back home ever learned about my relative dislike for him, I'd probably get crucified. But you gotta admit, the kid's creepy. He'll gleefully talk about the most morbid of subjects, and when he follows me around the infirmary, as he's wont to do, he keeps cracking jokes about the injuries that the wounded have sustained. He watches with rapt attention as I go about my healing business. When I finally ask him why he's so intent on watching me do my work, he says, "It's like watching the wounds in reverse. When you heal them, I can imagine what must have been done to them to give them those injuries in the first place. It's like I'm really there!" He does have a point, so much so that from that point forward, I also find myself imagining what sort of tool or tactic was used to give these men and women their often-grisly wounds. Once it's pointed out to me, I can't help but do it. Like when your friend's terrible habit of chewing with his mouth open is pointed out to you after years of knowing each other. Pisses me off.

Anyway, things like that are why I generally prefer to steer clear of him when possible. I've got enough on my plate as is, let alone worrying about the guy from the 'that kid' threads bringing me a severed arm or something.

However, it's through Henry that I ultimately get acquainted with another guest in the Osprey home: Mustafa and Octavia's son, Mikkel. One day when I'm on my rounds, Henry shows up with more than just himself; he's also got a timid-looking kid of about eleven or twelve with him. The kid looks a lot like Octavia, same olive skin and dark hair, same pronounced facial features. I can tell already that he's gonna be a chick magnet in a few years. For now, though, he looks like a stiff breeze might knock him down.

"Come on, Mikkel! It's cool to watch!" Henry shouts over his shoulder as he pulls the kid by the hand into the infirmary. Mikkel looks less than excited to be here.

"Hey, Henry. Who's this?" I ask, staff in one hand and damp towel in the other as I stand up from treating the damage from a guy's leg infection he got from leaving an arrowhead in place for too long.

"This is Mikkel! He's Mustafa and Octavia's kid. He's nice, but he doesn't exactly have the strongest stomach. So I thought I'd show him a professional healer at work!" Henry says cheerfully.

I raise a brow. "Did it ever occur to you that it might not suit a weak-stomached kid to watch the healing of infectious injuries?" I ask.

"Well, we all gotta get introduced to it sometime, right? I figure better here and now than if he didn't see blood until his own was getting spilled on the battlefield. Nyahaha!"

See what I mean?

"Well, that may be, but I think it's up to Mikkel to decide." I look over to the boy, still kinda clinging to Henry's side. "Hi, Mikkel. I'm Randy. I'm a healer, so right now I'm doing my best to keep these folks safe while they get better." I gesture behind me at all the patients in their makeshift beds.

"Hi," he half-whispers.

Oh boy. I don't know how to deal with shy kids.

"Well, I'm not gonna tell you that you have to go away, but I also don't want you around if you're only here because Henry brought you. You only stay if _you_ want to, got it?" I say.

He nods, but otherwise doesn't move. Jeez, this kid. Even when I'm technically giving him a choice, I can't tell if he's here of his own volition. I guess it doesn't matter regardless; I've got work to do.

I get back to it, healing those still suffering from lingering infection and trying to ignore the two pairs of eyes on me as I work. Thankfully, Henry isn't being too annoying today, and Mikkel as a rule seems to keep his mouth shut.

I'm trying not to be too harsh on the kid in my mind. I know that it can't have been more than a week or two ago that he learned his dad has been executed. If I knew the first thing about how to counsel a child who's just lost a parent like that, I would try to help, but I kind of feel helpless in this situation.

Anyway, I make a point in asking my patients if they feel any pain and making sure I get a 'no' from each of them so that it's expressly clear to Mikkel that my job isn't to cause hurt, but to undo it. It's hard to tell, but I think he might slowly be warming to the idea as he sees the wounded soldiers all give him encouraging smiles to prove how tough they are. As skeptical as I was when Henry brought him in, it might have been a positive experience for the kid after all.

"Have you always been a healer? How do you become one?" Mikkel asks timidly as I finish up my afternoon rounds.

I smile at him. "Well, not always. I only started learning maybe, what, six months ago? Henry, what day is it?"

"The 24th."

Holy shit, I only just now realize it's Christmas Eve. The realization that time is really passing drops like a rock in my stomach. "Yeah, then nearly seven months. But if you wanna know if you can be a healer, we can actually find out right now."

A brief flash of enthusiasm. "Really? How?"

I hold my staff out to him. "Just hold this for a bit." He takes it from me with both hands and holds it in front of him, carefully inspecting the orb and the receiver holding it. The staff is a little over five feet long, so it's actually a bit taller than him, I notice. "Feel anything? Like a vibrating, or a tingling?" I ask after a few seconds.

He shakes his head slowly. "No." A frown grows on his face as he realizes what that means. "I can't do it, huh?"

Oh. That's legitimately disappointing. I didn't think this through well enough, maybe. I squat a little to get more or less to eye level with him. "Well hey, there's no need to worry. Even if staves don't work for you, I'm sure you've got all kinds of ways you can help people."

"Yeah! Like how your dad used his big axe to protect people, or how Randy and I can use dark magic to wipe out the bad guys!" Henry chimes in.

Hold on a second.

"Henry, how do you know I can use dark magic? I haven't touched a tome since I came here, and I don't think I told anyone that either," I say.

Henry giggles. "Oh, that's easy! You've got dark aura seeping outta you like crazy! At least as much as I do! I bet if the two of us stood next to each other, we'd be darn near impossible to see at all! Heehee!"

That reminds me of what Tharja told me back when we first met in Golgotha. Or rather, our first meeting that never really happened because we left that run behind. She mentioned that I must have done something to make Robin kill herself because she could see the darkness in me, or something. "Is that a thing? Do all dark mages have this sort of aura?" I ask.

He shrugs, still grinning. "Kinda! Usually you can only really tell with a powerful one, though, so I'm guessing you're pretty strong!"

"I guess so…" That'll be one to investigate more later on, I suspect. I wonder if I might actually be sensing Henry's dark aura, and that's what's making me so averse to spending time with him. Something like that.

In the meantime, Mikkel has been slowly retreating from the conversation ever since Henry cut in. "Anyway, Mikkel,"I say, turning to him, "he's got a point. If you're anything like the General Mustafa I met, then you'll grow up to be someone who protects the innocent with everything he's got. You've just gotta find what you do best and really hone it."

He nods silently. I think Henry and I bringing up his dad might not have been the best idea. Jesus, I have no idea how to do this.

"Anyway, we should get going. Sun's starting to quit out there, and you know what that means? Dinner's gonna be on soon!" Henry says, and starts walking off, and Mikkel obediently falls in step with him. "See ya later, Randy!" Henry calls behind him.

I give a halfhearted wave. "Seeya."

* * *

" _Chrom, there was something else I wanted to bring up with you before we arrive. I don't know if you'll want to tell the rest of the Shepherds or not, but you at least should be thinking about it," I say as I approach Chrom from behind. As usual, he's walking at the front of the caravan, this time alongside a chipper-looking Frederick astride his horse. I guess I don't mind if Frederick hears this too; I'm sure it'll have crossed his mind anyway._

" _Ah, Robin, good to see you out of the command wagon," Frederick says. "I was beginning to think you might have accidentally starved yourself hiding away in there."_

" _I've been planning, Frederickson. Lots to do," I reply._

" _Not even your irritating nicknames will get to me today, Robin. I am much too relieved to be back where I belong, even if being stuck atop Imperium means I can no longer be on pebble duty. Fortunately, Nowi seemed more than happy to skip on ahead and handle that for me." I squint my eyes, and sure enough, a few dozen feet ahead of us, there's Nowi, rushing from spot to spot and dropping to a squat to pluck rocks off the road. "Not that she does as thorough a job as I'd like, but then again, nobody ever does," Frederick sighs._

" _Anyway, what did you need, Robin?" Chrom asks._

" _I wanted to make sure that we're clear on all the implications of that ambush at the Anchorage estate. While I will continue to maintain that Randall had nothing to do with leaking our whereabouts to the enemy, it's clear that someone must have. The khans were right to fear a security breach. Whether it was intentional sabotage or an intercepted communication or whatever the case may be, the enemy had knowledge that they simply should not have had. We have to assume that they know our entire plan, down to our intention to take back Ylisstol."_

 _Frederick nods. "Aptly put. Even if the mystery remains unsolved, some of the consequences of this leak are not difficult to speculate. We should be prepared for the very likely possibility that they will be expecting us in Ylisstol."_

" _What could that mean for us?" Chrom asks. "Will they take hostages? Will they burn the city before we can even reach it?"_

" _We need to be prepared for anything. Even if the city is a husk and the civilians have been driven out or killed, we have to take it back anyway. Ideally, Ylisstol will be a literal stronghold for us, but if nothing else, taking it back will at least be a moral victory for our cause. Plegia's war is barely with us anymore. It's with their own will to keep going. We can't allow ourselves to fall into the same trap."_

" _And how do we avoid that?" Chrom asks._

" _By knowing that what we're doing is right," I reply._

" _I agree wholeheartedly," Frederick says. "There is no choice left for us but to take back our home, no matter how ravaged we may find it. That is all there is to it."_

 _Chrom nods resolutely. "Right. Even so, Robin, I want to know if you find any leads on who might have leaked our plans, and how and when they did it."_

* * *

I spend my first Christmas away from my family healing patients and bickering with Henry and Vasto. I wanted to spend it with my friends in the Shepherds. I'd find some clever way to explain kind of what Christmas is without having to get into the actual origin of the holiday. I'd just call it a winter solstice celebration or something. But I wanted to try and cook everyone something nice, maybe teach them a Christmas carol or two. I bet hearing Gaius sing Silent Night would be amazing. Or getting Lissa and Nowi to sing Jingle Bells. Nowi would be the type to do that semi-obnoxious 'HA-HA-HA' after the 'laughing all the way' line, I'm sure.

Robin would moan at me for distracting everyone when we should be preparing ourselves for the battle ahead, and I'd tell her to lighten up and join us. And she'd relent eventually, because I'm just too damn charming, and she'd join in on the fun, slowly lightening up as the evening wore on. And we'd share a nice Christmas drink. And when the others went to bed, I'd tell her about real Christmas. And about my family, and how Christmas was always the biggest event of the year for us. I'd let her know how bad I miss my parents, and my siblings, and my friends back in America. And knowing that at least one person in this world knew how much today means to me would make it easier.

But that's not happening this year, because I'm here. And I just don't have it in me to celebrate with these people right now. So I swooce some whiskey from the kitchen after dinner and toast baby Jesus silently on my couch-bed after Vasto goes to sleep.

I miss my family. I miss the Shepherds. And I never thought I'd be saying this about the commissioner of the fun police herself, but I miss Robin, too.

* * *

The next break in my routine comes a few days later. I'm out near the stables, having a friendly conversation with Kinba while she occasionally snorts sparks in my direction, when I notice something big and white in the stable. As I walk over to check it out, I realize it's actually several somethings, and they're all pegasi. Phila must have come back from her latest mission.

I know that she's part of the coup crew, but I haven't actually seen her since I arrived. It still kind of blows my mind that so many people close to the Exalt were plotting to bring her down. Even so, she might be my best bet for pushing my own agenda while I'm stuck here.

I ended up telling Aventine about the Shepherds' plans to retake Ylisstol and use it as a fortified base of operations for the remainder of the war. I didn't feel like that alone was such a huge secret, especially since there's a good chance that the Plegians themselves already know about the plan, considering someone leaked our location at Anchorage to them. Anyway, in return he told me about Phila's situation and what he thinks she'll be able to contribute.

Basically, Phila is the closest thing he has outside of me to a sympathetic figure for the Shepherds. If she shows up, there'll be some questions asked about where she's been, but there's nothing in her past that would cast doubt over her. For that reason, she's going to be the crew's inside operative for the Shepherds. Aventine promised me that she would never bring any of the Shepherds to any sort of harm, as per my condition for helping his group, and that for now his goal is exclusively to push back against the Plegian advance. I asked if I could send a message to the Shepherds through her, but unsurprisingly he said that "it would be simply impossible, I'm sorry."

Well, fuck him. I'm going to try to corner Phila before she leaves and get her to take a message anyway. For my friends' peace of mind, as well as making sure Robin doesn't do anything stupid, I think it's important that they know that I'm at least relatively safe. I just hope I can convince Phila of the same thing.

I head inside the villa and up to the second floor, where I assume I'll find Phila giving her report to Aventine. True to my expectations, as I approach his office, I hear a female voice muffled behind the closed door. I draw close to the door, and hear the tail end of her report.

"—so while there are still Plegians in the area, without their commander or any of their officers, it's unlikely they'll pose much of a threat to anyone any longer. Especially considering the enthusiasm with which the farmer volunteers helped us drive out the military regulars once their command structure had been crippled," she says soberly.

"And who is it the farmers believe helped them?" Aventine asks.

"No one special. The only mention I heard of the Shepherds while we were there was the grumbling of villagers wondering why they had failed to show up and help them," Phila replies.

"That's also a relief. The sooner people do away with the idea that they need the Shepherds to protect them, the more smoothly this transition will go."

So that's his game. Drive out the Plegians, but maximize the people's doubt in the Shepherds at the same time. Create a vacuum that his new government can fill. It's pretty smart, actually. If you wanted to start a popular republican movement, the first step is making the people feel like they're the ones with power.

I decide I'll hang out here and listen to what else gets talked about. Getting some insight on his plans without it being filtered through his careful, diplomatic wording would be nice.

"Now, Commander Phila, as much as I enjoy your company, I'm afraid I have to ask that you prepare at once to go on another mission. You're in a unique position to be useful to us with the Shepherds themselves, who are now in-country," Aventine says.

"Right. I can't relax while our people are in danger," Phila replies.

"But first, excuse me for just a second," Aventine says. There's some movement in the room, the sound of someone getting up from a chair. A couple seconds later, the door opens suddenly. "Randall, would you care to join us?" he asks me, looking wholly unsurprised to see me. "I thought you might be more comfortable sitting down with us rather than standing at the door."

I'm equal parts terrified, flustered, and really quite embarrassed, if I'm being honest. I find my shoes really interesting to look at as I sit in the chair next to Phila's.

"We can't blame Randall for wanting to sneak about, of course. We kidnapped him and brought him here, and are currently technically holding him against his will. He has every right and reason to assume that we are feeding him a doctored version of our statement of goals. Were I in his position, I'd do the same, no doubt in my mind," Aventine says in an infuriatingly understanding tone.

"Don't try and gaslight me, man. If you knew I was listening, then you could have been feeding me a gentle version of your goals even just now," I fire back. "Hi, Phila," I add, glancing at her beside me. She looks pretty lost right now.

"Hello. Who are you again?" Phila asks.

"I used to be–" I catch myself "–I _am_ a Shepherd. Last time I saw you in person, you were taking Emmeryn away from Breakneck Pass."

I watch the look of recognition appear in her eyes. "Oh, you're that priest! The one who gave Exalt Emmeryn that strange magic sheet. I didn't recognize you without your healer's robes."

A lump forms in my throat. "Don't remind me. I miss those robes." I turn back to Aventine. "Anyway, what's your angle here?"

He shrugs. "I'm being as honest with you as possible. I've already told you that I intend to take the Exalted family out of power. I don't want to kill any of the Shepherds in doing so, as I believe that they would all be valuable assets to our new republic. However, for now the Shepherds are a symbol of the Exalts' rule. We need to show the people that the Shepherds are only human, and that the common man must be prepared to assert himself in this new world we are creating. I don't want the people to hate them, or even distrust them. Just to recognize that they aren't superhuman."

"Well, they _do_ have a manakete, a taguel, and several divinely ordained champions among their numbers. I'm sure you can understand the confusion," I reply.

He replies with a patronizing smile. "In any case, the only things that I am not telling you are things that really and truly don't concern you. Our goals and our methods are open for your perusal, including this very mission that I am sending Phila on." He returns his attention to Phila. "So, getting back on track. Randall here has informed me of the Shepherds' plan of action for retaking Ylisse. The Shepherds, assuming their plans haven't changed in the wake of King Gangrel's attack on them at the Anchorage Estate and our subsequent kidnapping of Randall, are making their way to Ylisstol, where they intend to expel the invaders and fortify the city to make it their permanent base of operations for the remainder of the war."

I haven't told him yet, and so far have no intention of telling him, that their next objective after Ylisstol will bring them here. He can find that out later, since for right now, I'd say that 'truly doesn't concern him.'

"I take it you want me to bring a force to Ylisstol to assist the Shepherds in retaking the city?" Phila asks.

"Precisely. It's likely that once they have you back, they won't want to let you go, though, so we need to make sure that you're briefed on everything that will go on in the interim while you're acting with them," Aventine replies. "Firstly, and most universally, we will be fighting the Plegians for the foreseeable future. They still have the upper hand in this war, and we need to balance the relative power of the countries before we can make our move. For your part, that means that you will need to be a voice of caution for the Shepherds once they begin retaking their land. Reclaiming Ylisse is all well and good, but the ideal outcome is for things to come to a cessation of conflict on mutual terms. If either side has a clear advantage over the other, the people won't get behind a mutually beneficial peace treaty. I understand how important keeping the Exalted family safe is to both of you, so if you want to avoid placing them in danger, we can't allow their victory to be anything more than a truce."

"You really think the people will roll with that? Gangrel clearly instigated this war, but you want the Ylisseans to agree to a peace treaty that doesn't acknowledge Plegia's fault?" I ask.

"That's exactly the reaction we have to prevent. Plegia as a nation cannot be held to blame, or else there will be war without end. We must place responsibility where it truly lies: the leader of Plegia, Gangrel."

"Aren't you forgetting the other important faction to blame? Your buddies in the Grimleal?" I ask.

"What makes you think they're to blame? They were the primary victims of Gideon's genocidal war less than two decades ago," Aventine replies.

"They're the ones pushing Gangrel to carry out this war in the first place! It wasn't his idea!" Am I seriously sticking up for Gangrel, of all people? "Not that he's not a total dickhead who's done his own share of heinous shit, but he's not the only one that needs to go."

"Dare I ask how you know the motives of the Grimleal high priests?" Aventine asks, brow raised.

"I know stuff I'm not supposed to, remember? And I know this too. The Grimleal are behind this whole damn thing. Not only can we not afford to work with them, we can't afford _not_ to take them down too. At least those in power in their organization."

Aventine takes a moment to consider. "It's worth thinking about, in any event. The Grimleal have been useful so far as informants and field operatives, but it's true that I've never liked the idea of working with them. For now, I'll take it under advisement. Regardless, Phila, consider yourself briefed for now. Hopefully in the next couple days we will be able to send you out with more information, but we haven't been able to get recent reports on Ylisstol."

Phila stands up, and I do as well. "Thank you, Lord Aventine," she says, and makes for the door. I follow her out.

Outside the office, Phila turns to me. "You were kidnapped? By us?"

"Yeah, not exactly the best introduction I could've had to your cause, honestly," I reply.

"My apologies. Lord Aventine's methods are often more extreme than I would prefer."

"Actually, that one was all Vasto, as far as I know. He didn't have orders to kidnap me, in any event," I say.

She starts walking down the hall, and I follow alongside her. "Do you support us, even somewhat?" she asks.

"I can see the merit of some of your ideas. But the ideal means nothing if the method used to carry it out doesn't live up to it," I reply.

"I agree wholeheartedly. I found that it was usually General Mustafa who kept Lord Aventine in check when it came to his more extreme suggestions, but… well, I've been informed of Mustafa's execution since I came back. I don't know what will become of us. This movement was always run by the two of them. They were perfect companions in some ways, and perfect foils in others. I can only pray that we can stay afloat without Mustafa's guidance as well."

"Well, someone else will just have to keep Aventine in line, then," I say. "You seem capable."

She shakes her head. "I'm needed out in the field. I can't stay here to keep things in check. I have to trust that he will keep his head, even in the wake of this tragedy."

We stop at a door on the east side of the hall. As she opens the door, I see it's an unoccupied bedroom. Jesus, how many rooms does this family need? This villa is deceptively dense.

"Well, I'm sure you're tired. I'll leave you to it," I say as I start walking away.

"Hold on a moment, Randall. Would you stay for a bit? There's something I want to ask you about," Phila says, gesturing for me to come into her room. I do so.

"What's up?" I ask.

"When you gave that magic sheet to Exalt Emmeryn, did you do so knowing that she was going to be captured? That she would be executed in that way?" Phila asks.

"Sort of. I had a really strong feeling about it," I reply.

"A 'strong feeling'? Lord Aventine has mentioned your propensity for having access to hidden knowledge before, but he seems a little too willing to write it off for my tastes. I want to know how you could anticipate that series of events unless you were a part of them."

"If I were part of the plan to capture and execute Emmeryn, wouldn't I have expressly avoided giving her anything that could've helped her survive a fall like that? You've got it backwards there, Phila," I reply.

"Perhaps you decided to turn traitor against them. I'm not making any speculation on your current loyalties, I just want to know how you got that information in the first place."

I point to my temple. "It was all already up here. Call it divine intervention if you like. That's all you're getting from me, sorry."

She glares at me for a moment, then sighs. "I see you're just as vexatious a man as Lord Aventine can be. You two must have such fun together," she says as she begins unstrapping her pauldrons and chest plate, letting them fall to the floor with satisfying _thuds_.

"Oh, we have a blast," I reply. "Why do you think he gave up on learning my secret so easily?"

She lets her hair down as well, and I'm surprised by how long it actually is as her grey, straight locks fall a little over halfway down her back. Not quite Cordelia length, but getting there.

"Actually, Phila, there's something I'm hoping you can do for me, too," I say.

"Oh?"

I poke my head briefly into the hallway to assure myself no one's listening outside. I lower my voice regardless. "I want you to get a message to the Shepherds for me. _Without_ telling Aventine."

"Why? And what's the message?"

"He thinks I'd try and leak secret information about this group through a coded message of some kind. I just want them to know that I'm not with the Plegians and that I'm at least relatively safe. It would put my mind at ease, and I know it would for them as well."

She hesitates. "Look, I'm sorry that you were kidnapped. It's not something I would have done. But I don't know about disobeying a direct order from Lord Aventine. It's not like we have ample reason to trust you."

"You can look over the message yourself if you like. I just want to put my friends at ease and try and keep them on the same agenda that they already made. It'll be bad for everyone if Robin tries to divert from the original plan."

"And you think she'd really do that?"

"I don't know for sure that she wouldn't. And that's enough to make me want to contact them."

More hesitation. "I'll consider it," she says finally. "Anyway, you were right before. I am tired. Can we continue this discussion another time?"

"Yeah, of course. Thanks, Phila."

I wait to fist-pump to myself until after I close the door behind me.

* * *

 _I don't know what to do with myself lately._

 _Ever since Master Validar was abandoned by that person he insists is Lord Grima, he hasn't had the drive to do much of anything. He sleeps most of the day, then wakes up only to rage in his chamber and break things. He says we are lost, doomed to wander the earth without our god's guidance._

 _I want to be happy. We're finally free of that horrible person, whoever they are, and I should be able to relax at last. But instead of that hooded figure terrorizing me, now it's Master Validar who frightens me. I don't know what to do._

 _I can't turn to Gangrel. That base, vile boy could never understand. And even if he could, he spends much of his time in his own chamber now. It seems we are operating without any guiding hand. And without Grima, without Master Validar, without even Gangrel, I am at a loss._

 _For now, all I can do is keep Master Validar fed and taken care of. He certainly doesn't seem willing to do it himself anymore. And so, I shrug off the chill of our bunker's dark and drafty halls to bring him some stew._

 _I hear his shouts before I even reach the door. I rap my knuckles against it with my free hand. "Master Validar? I've brought dinner."_

" _Away! Away with you! Leave me!" he shouts._

" _Master, you must eat. You must keep your strength up," I plead._

 _A few long moments later, the door swings open. He looks as sallow as he did yesterday, eyes sunken and darkened. He at least managed to pull a tunic on over his underclothes today._

" _Fine. Give it here," he says, snatching the bowl from my hand and spilling some of it onto the floor in his doorway. "Now begone." The door slams in my face._

 _I swallow the emotion welling in my throat as I walk back down the hall to my own chamber. I will not cry. I refuse. I have to be strong. I just have to support him until he becomes himself again. Then everything will work out._

" _My, you look more than a little dour," a voice right behind my left ear says, making me jump and whirl around on my heel._

 _My throat catches, choking my words. "No…" I manage to spit out. I thought I was rid of this person. The one thing that was supposed to be good about this situation. But they're back. I feel the temperature of the hallway drop drastically as I look at hooded figure in black. "What do you want?"_

" _What do I want? Same thing as always. I want to see something interesting. But I think more to the point, what do_ you _want, Aversa?" they ask with a chilling grin. It's amazing how no matter what angle I look at them from, I can never see anything above the lower half of their face._

" _I want to be left alone," I reply, trying to keep the desperation from creeping into my tone._

" _I think we both know that's not true. You could have left any time you wanted. Once I abandoned old Valli, he wouldn't have been able to stop you leaving. But you stayed. You let him drag you down to… this. This pathetic, sorry state."_

" _I… I have to stay with him. It's the promise I made to him."_

" _A promise? Do tell. When did you make it? Where? Why?"_

" _That's… I…" My head starts hurting. Why can't I remember?_

 _The grin widens a bit. "Now that's funny. I wonder why you can't seem to recall. But I think you might know, am I right?"_

 _I try not to remember it, but the memory returns unbidden._

"By the way, you're totally being brainwashed, and it's super funny."

 _I don't know if they said it aloud or if it's just ringing in my brain, but there it is. That sentence that's haunted me for months. It's eaten away at my dreams, prodded my mind when I'm awake. It never goes away. Gnawing at me._

" _That's what I thought. You know, it's sad watching this, Aversa, it really is. You're young, beautiful, powerful. More capable than Validar by any metric. But he's holding you back. And you're too scared to let that go." They lean in closer. "I can fix that, if you want."_

 _My heart skips a beat in terror. "Fix? What do you mean?"_

 _They raise their right hand. "I can fix it. It would be that easy." They snap their fingers. "Just like that. All you have to do is say you want it."_

" _H-how do I know you'll show me the truth? You might fill my mind with lies of your own," I say in an attempt at a defying tone. Are my knees shaking?_

" _You don't, and I could. I definitely could. But what would be the fun in crafting a bunch of lies that would push you in the direction_ I _would like? To me, what's interesting is to watch someone else live up their potential all on their own. That's why I'm offering you this. Because watching you bring our hermit friend down the hall his daily soup ration ad nauseum is painfully dull."_

 _I search for a sign that they might be lying to me. That I'm being played for a fool. I feel as though they've never done anything but terrorize me. But… is that it? They did tell me where the Shepherds were going to be some months ago. They said that would be interesting as well. As far as I know, they've never lied to me before. Maybe they're really telling the truth. Is it really alright to agree to this?_

 _As if in answer to the question I didn't ask, they reply, "Unless you'd prefer to keep playing nursemaid for that waste of breath over there." They gesture with a nod backwards at Master Validar's chamber._

 _I feel ice in my stomach._

" _Do it," I say._

 _The grin, if possible, widens even more. They place their hand, surprisingly warm and pleasant to the touch, on my forehead._

 _And then they release my shuttered mind. An incredible wave of pain, unlike anything I've ever felt in even my most grueling training session, washes over me. It's as though someone has jammed carpenter nails into every corner of my mind and is wrenching at them, twisting and yanking and ripping the walls of my memories apart._

 _The memories come streaming back all at once. Too much. An entire lifetime. Decades of my life, lost, and all returning in one unbearable tidal wave. The pieces don't just fall into place; they're thrust so roughly that the frame of the puzzle threatens to crack. I fall to my knees on the floor._

 _I was a happy girl. I lived with loving parents, and my village was almost always warm. I had friends. Kind, gentle friends, with kind families. We played in the field all summer long, year after year. I never wanted to leave._

 _And then he came. Master Validar— no, not master anymore. Validar came. I was so confused. Why did my friends look like that, all blackened and withered? Where were my parents? Where was I being taken?_

 _I can't hold back my anguished scream anymore as I remember the next years of my life. The training. The molding. The honing of my prodigious skill with dark magic. The cold, hard bed in my cold, dark bedroom. The cruelty of Validar, as he taught me to embrace my hate, my anger, my rage. He wanted me to hate him, and indeed I did. But he never gave me a chance to kill him. I killed more than a few Grimleal instructors in my adolescence, but he never put himself in harm's way._

 _I can't remember a time when I wasn't being punished for something. Failing to make my bed properly. Failing to bow deeply enough to my instructor. Speaking too quietly when asked to respond. Speaking too loudly. I was kept on the verge of starvation. I fed not on food, but on the life force I could take from my instructors with my Nosferatu tome._

 _I begged for death. I begged for anything, anything but this. The life I was living was too much. But at the first sign that I might turn my tome on myself, the guards were quick to disarm me. I never got the chance._

 _And then, one day, Validar offered to take it all away. Let me forget all of it. One curse, and I could leave it all behind._

 _How could I refuse?_

 _I had no idea what he truly intended. That he would never let me go. That I would be made to devote myself to him, body and mind and soul, and never leave his side. That he wasn't done with me, and never will be._

 _Never would have been. If I hadn't remembered._

 _When at last I can open my eyes, I find the hooded person crouching in front of me. They look absolutely elated._

" _Ohoho, would you look at that? That fire in your eyes. And here I was wondering if you might not be able to take it. If after I took away the veil, there might not be any Aversa left."_

 _I bristle. "Don't call me that anymore. That was a false name, given to me by a man worth less than the dirt he now wallows in. He gave me a new name, in the hopes that I would never recall any memory of my past."_

" _Is that right? Then what should I call you?"_

" _Call me by the name my parents gave me. I am Diana. And I will have my revenge."_

 _The hooded person remains quiet for a moment, but soon a small chuckle escapes their lips. It grows to a laugh, and before long they're cackling at the top of their lungs, throwing their head back and barking laughter at the ceiling._

 _When they look back at me, I see that their hood has fallen. When he has calmed down enough to speak, and I see at last that this is a man in front of me, he says between lingering chuckles, "Oh, I made the right choice. This is going to be great."_

 _He offers me a hand up to my feet, and I take it. His hand is just as warm as it was against my head. "You said you're only after things that are interesting, right?" I ask._

" _Oh yes."_

" _I think I won't disappoint you, then. Because now that I'm back, I have some business to take care of."_

 _His eyes twinkle with delight. "Oh, don't I know it, Diana. You and I are going to do great things together."_

* * *

 **A/N: I have been waiting about seven and a half months to write that last scene. You guys have no idea how excited I am for this. Aversa got so screwed by Awakening's canon story, and I felt like she deserved much better. Not only that, but what kind of parent would name their kid Aversa? Anyway, I hope y'all like the direction I'm taking a few things with the story. I bet a lot of you are surprised by how much socio-political drama I've been cooking up lately, but I totally love that shit, so I hope you guys are having fun with it as well. The nuance of what makes a war actually happen is largely absent from Awakening (and from a lot of games in the series, if we're being honest), so I wanted to breathe a little life into that side of things.  
**

 **It wouldn't be an author's note if I didn't give a shout out to my bois, Mixed Valence and NotTheArchitect. MV updated Earthborne fairly recently, so make sure you're caught up there, and I have it on good faith that NTA is well on his way to getting another chapter cranked out as well. And here is your Mixed Valence out of context quote of the week: "The Korean foxes are gonna eat u... Scratch behind the ears! That's their weak spot."**

 **So, since the last chapter went up, I've had the immense joy of having _several_ fine people in the Discord server grace me with fanart for BaRD, by which I was and remain beyond flattered. One fan, who wishes to remain anonymous, had an adorable scene from chapter 28 commissioned from an artist friend of his, which blew me away. And another artist who's in the Discord herself, Morskijez, has blessed us with two incredibly cute images, one of which is Lissa and Randall acting out the "When Frederick isn't home" scenario, and the other of which is Randall and Robin getting their drink on atop a pub table with their buddies. It's all delightful, and I love it with all my soul. The links to all the works I've described are up on my profile, since as much as I want to link them here in the chapter, FFN is determined to buck me on this.**

 **Join the Discord yourself and come say hi! It's always a great time to get to talk directly with my readers:** **discord. gg/ 3mdunvc**

 **As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**


	34. Ch 34: I Achieve My Dream of Selling Out

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 34: I Achieve My Dream of Selling Out  
**

" _Virion, I have something I want to ask you," I say sharply. It took a while to get him in a position where he's by himself, and I certainly wish I didn't have to wait for it to be when he had to leave the caravan to relieve himself in a bush by the road, but beggars (loathe as I am to refer to myself as such even in the context of an idiom) cannot be choosers, as they say._

 _He jumps with surprise as he frantically readjusts his trousers to try and appear at least somewhat dignified. "Ah! Lady Maribelle! To what do I owe the… unexpected pleasure?"_

" _Virion, let's not play this game. We've both proven our ability to be polite to one another before, so now I'd prefer to be direct with you. Were you the one who leaked information about our location and plans to the Plegians? If so, please tell me now, so we can find a way to resolve this reasonably," I say in my signature 'nothing less than the truth' tone._

 _He looks suitably terrified, though that might also be because he's still putting his trousers back on. "Look, I can see where you might be confused, given the associate of mine that you saw back when we were retreating from Plegia."_

" _Confused, am I?" I thunder back at him._

" _W-well, not confused, per se. Something more like, erm, misinformed? Only partially informed, rather. Given the information you do have, I can see why you might come to the conclusion that I have been colluding with the enemy." He can't meet my eye. Good._

" _And what information, pray tell, am I missing?"_

 _He squirms a moment longer, then exhales deeply in resignation and stands up properly, his trousers now firmly in place. "You do not know who I really am, or what duties I have to my people. I am not merely Virion, archest of archers, but am in fact a gentleman of very high standing who hails from the illustrious land of Roseanne."_

" _You're a gentleman of high standing? You expect me to believe that? Let alone that I've never heard of this Roseanne in the first place!" I say incredulously._

 _His mouth falls agape at the revelation that I'm not at all familiar with his alleged homeland. "Of course I do! It's the truth! And it certainly would explain my gainly bearing and noble mannerisms, would it not?" He looks shocked that his apparent big reveal is failing to impress or convince me._

" _So would you being a little weasel actor who preys on wealthy women by pretending to be some sort of… philandering noble playboy!"_

" _That simply isn't so, Lady Maribelle! I swear to you, I am who I say I am. And if you'll allow me, I can explain what may have happened with the Plegians," Virion says, simultaneously shouting and keeping his voice down somehow._

 _I suppose I never really thought he had actively betrayed us. I may as well hear his explanation. "Go on."_

" _You see, I've been in constant communication with my stewardess back in Roseanne, a lovely young woman by the name of Cherche. I have been traveling the continent for some time now, hoping to gain reliable allies to call upon should I ever have need of them, as indeed I suspect I might in the not so distant future. I merely update her on where I have been, where I am going, and what I plan to do from here. Meanwhile, she reports back on the state of things in Valm, the continent on which Roseanne is situated," he explains._

 _I narrow my eyes. "And what exactly are you putting in these updates of yours? Did you, by chance, put in writing exactly where we were going to be?"_

 _He looks at the frosty ground between my feet. "It's… possible."_

" _And did your latest update provide anything beyond that?"_

" _I may have mentioned that our next move is to raid the capital…"_

" _You WHAT?" All desire to be reasonable with this craven leaves me in an instant. I grab a fistful of cravat. "You come with me. We are going to explain a thing or two to our captain and our tactician, right now."_

" _Eep," he manages to yelp before I yank him like a dog on a very short leash and make him follow me toward the front of the caravan, where I know at least Chrom will be walking, no doubt. As I storm past everyone walking among the caravan, I'm sure we get more than a few looks, but I can't be bothered to care right now. Randall is gone because of the dunderheadedness of this absolute buffoon; a few stares from the others are about to be the least of his worries._

 _When we reach the front, thankfully Robin is there with Chrom and Frederick, so there's no need to get her._

" _Milord, Robin, Sir Frederick, I believe our mysterious companion here has something he'd like to share with you all." I shove him in front of me. He looks really quite small as he stands in front of Chrom and is flanked by Robin and Frederick on either side. "Go on, tell them what you told me," I order._

 _He does so. I watch the same litany of emotions – disbelief, anger, disgust, disappointment, and so on – wash over each of their faces as he goes through his explanation. After he finishes, all five of us stand in silence for a few seconds while the three of them take in his story._

 _Chrom is the first to speak. "Maribelle, do you have your staff handy?" he asks._

" _Oh. Um, yes milord, I do," I reply._

 _He glances to either side of him. "Would anyone here protest if I, just once, concaved his nose, and had Maribelle heal him up right after?" Virion squeaks in fear._

" _No protest from me whatsoever, milord," Frederick hisses with more venom than I've ever heard from the man._

" _Normally, such a waste of magical resources wouldn't appeal to me, but this time, I think I can make an exception," Robin adds, glowering down at the self-proclaimed gentleman with the same fire that was in her eyes when she learned about Randall's fate from Marth in the first place._

 _Chrom cocks his fist back. Virion cries something in a language I don't understand, but it sounds like "_ Mere!"

 _I can't believe I'm doing this. I step between Chrom and Virion just before he lets his punch loose. "Milord, I can't let you do that."_

 _Thankfully for my own face, he stops short of punching me. "M-Maribelle?" he asks._

" _Milord, our problems will not be solved by beating the stuffing out of our allies. Even our idiot allies. Surely you've learned that by now?" I ask._

 _He stares at me for a moment, slowly growing redder but otherwise not moving for a strangely long time. "You… you're right, Maribelle. Of course. I just need to calm down." He takes a few slow, deep breaths. "I'm sorry. I'm ashamed that I nearly gave into my impulse so thoughtlessly."_

 _Despite my own desire to throttle Virion right now, I can tell this is better for Chrom, so I give him the encouraging smile that I'm sure he needs right now. "Thank you, milord. Despite our companion's… incredible shortcomings, we must keep our focus directed at the true enemy."_

 _His hand moves to cover his face. "I can't believe I allowed myself to doubt Randall's loyalty again. No matter how many times he proves himself to us… I've been such a fool. He's been a steadfast friend to me all this time, and this is how his captain repays him? I hope he can forgive me…"_

 _I reach out to take his unarmored shoulder in my hand. He looks at me. "I'm sure he'll understand. When we see him again, the pair of you will have some making up to do, so don't think I'll allow you to get away with avoiding it. Alright?"_

 _A smile creeps onto his face. "Right. And we_ will _see him again."_

 _I nod firmly. "Of course."_

 _Frederick clears his throat. "Now, Virion, I never did trust you, and this whole debacle has proven my doubts to have been completely well-founded. You've got a lot of work to do to make that up to us. I hope those dashing looks of yours don't rely on a great deal of sleep for upkeep, because you're going to be very, very busy from now on."_

 _Virion makes a sound I could only describe as a closed-mouth scream._

* * *

Phila reads over my message again and again with squinted eyes and pursed lips, looking for anything that might incriminate her or the movement here. I was pretty careful in my wording, so I don't think there's anything too obvious there. She reads it aloud to herself for the third time:

" _Robin,_

 _It's Randall. I'm alive. I have been captured, but not by Gangrel's men. I am not in Plegia, nor am I in imminent danger as I write this. However, I am not free to move as I please, and I don't know when I will get back to you. Please devote your time and energy to executing our plan exactly as it was, rather than trying to find me. If you can carry out the plan, I'm sure that our paths will cross soon enough. But you'd better come up with a pretty good strategy for retaking the capital, because it's not like you'll have eight chances to do it or anything. I have every faith that we will meet again in time. Please tell the others that I'm alright, and that I miss them more and more every day._

 _Randall._ "

She looks me in the eye, trying to get something from my expression and work out if I'm sending a coded message. Sorry Phila, but you'll have to do better than that.

"And how are you going to get this to them?" I ask. "I assume you're not just going to hand it to Robin in person with an apology for your comrade clubbing me over the head and kidnapping me?"

"If Vasto's reports on the size and position of the Ylissean-Feroxi alliance were accurate, we can estimate with relative accuracy how long it will take them to reach Ylisstol. If I take my units and leave in the next day or so, we should be able to reach them a couple days before they get to the capital. One of my dark fliers will fly over the Shepherds' camp unseen and deliver the message tied to a stone by dropping it into the middle of the camp. Meanwhile, we will stay out of sight until the alliance reaches Ylisstol, at which time we will join them in the assault. This way, your message gets delivered without implicating any of us," Phila explains as she rolls up the parchment and ties it with a string.

I nod. "Alright. You know, you're going to a lot of trouble to do this for me. I know you feel guilty about what happened to me, but I'm surprised you're willing to do this. It would be a lot easier to just abide Aventine's order and tell me no." I know I'm risking fucking this up by saying this, but I have a feeling it'll be okay. I want to know more about what makes this group tick, and Aventine is so damn tight-lipped about everything that I can't get a read on him. I need to know what motivates these folks if I want to be able to get one up on them.

She sighs. "It absolutely would. But there are some things more important than orders. You never did anything to deserve getting taken from your friends like that. Lord Aventine is right that allowing you to send this message is dangerous, but I have to have faith that you made your request in good faith, and so I'm obliged to respond in kind."

Sorry about that, Phila. But I'm absolutely putting one over on you with this one. I just have to hope that Robin's sharp enough to get the real meaning behind my message.

"Well, in any case, I appreciate it. You might be part of the group trying to take my friends out, but at least you're being pretty decent about it," I reply with just a hint of disdain. No matter how kind Phila or anyone else might be to me, the reality is that they're the enemies of my friends.

"Look, it's not that simple. I don't want to kill the Exalted family. I want to protect them!" Phila protests.

I do a mental double-take. "Come again?"

"You weren't around when Exalt Emmeryn came to power. You weren't around for Gideon's War, or if you were, you look barely old enough to remember any of it. Even when the war was over, this country was a horrible place to live in. More than anything, I remember the way that the young Exalt suffered. She was strong-willed, probably too much for her age, but in her private moments, as her bodyguard, I saw much that the public did not. The way that the pressure of governance bore down on her. For years she cried herself to sleep every other night or so. She grieved our people's loss, and felt fully responsible for every iota of suffering they had endured at her father's hands, and later the attacks of Plegian invaders. And in the midst of all this, there was more than one assassination attempt made on her life. Some she knew about, such as the infamous stone thrower who was the talk of the country for weeks, but others she didn't, as I worked with the royal guard to thwart them in their infancy. This job, the governance of a whole nation, is too much for any one person. If I take the Exalted family out of power, out of the jurisdiction of public scrutiny, I can better ensure their safety."

"So you think you'd actually be helping them by overthrowing them?" I ask.

"In short, yes. I don't mind Lord Aventine's idea for a republican structure of government, but that is in a distant second on my list of priorities. My duty is to protect the Exalt from everything that threatens her, even her own station. I know it probably doesn't make sense to you, but—"

"Yeah, that sounds pretty bass-ackwards."

"— _but_ , thankfully, I don't need your approval, or Lord Aventine's, or anyone's, to know that what I'm doing is right. Exalt Emmeryn would stand on top of the pedestal her people have put her on for as long as it takes, until someone were to shoot her down from on high. But if I can take out the pedestal on which she's resolved to stand all her life, give her the chance to step down and walk among us, then maybe I can make sure that shot misses."

I take a moment to really look at her. The years of worry and constant pressure become evident in every microwrinkle of her face. I was never able to really peg how old Phila is, but I get the sense that being the head of Emm's royal guard has aged her well beyond her years. After all, she's already fully greyed out, and she can't be older than forty, no way.

"This isn't just for Emm, is it?" I ask. "You probably haven't had a good night's sleep in like fifteen years, I'd bet."

At first she stands a little taller, as if to tell me off for suggesting that she's got a selfish motivation in this too, but then she settles back to her normal height. "You're not wrong. I can't recall the last time I went to sleep with a truly worry-free conscience. It would be nice to finally feel as though I can rest."

"Well, in any case, she's safe with the Shepherds right now. They won't let her come to any harm," I say in an attempt at reassurance.

"So she truly is alive? The rumors and the propaganda from Gangrel weren't lies after all?" she asks.

"Yeah, it's true. And you know, you don't really need to worry so much about her standing atop that pedestal anyway. She, uh… she got really hurt when the execution got botched, and her memories of everything before that day are probably gone forever. Chrom hasn't just assumed wartime leadership; he'll probably have to become the official Exalt even after the war is over," I reply. I don't know if this will help her, but after all these years, I think she's earned at least this knowledge.

"She's… forgotten everything?" Phila looks dumbfounded.

"Yeah. I'm sorry," I reply, unsure of what else to do or say.

"I… see. Well, in a sense, this is a relief. At least she won't have to deal with the pressure of leadership any longer." She takes a breath. "But she's still in danger for as long as Gangrel occupies the throne. Stopping him must come first," she says, surprising me with her resolute tone.

I nod. "And the first step to that is retaking Ylisstol to give the Shepherds a firm base to operate from."

"Right. Which is why it's all the more important that I help make sure they capture the city safely." She stands a little straighter again. "Randall, the Shepherds will get your message. If the knowledge of your safety gives them as much motivation as the knowledge that Exalt Emmeryn is alive has given me, then it's my duty to make sure they are notified of your status. Rest assured, we will win back our country, and we will stop Gangrel."

I smile. "I'm glad to hear it. I know they can do it."

"I'd better resume my other preparations for our departure. I'm glad we talked, Randall."

"Me too," I tell her back as she turns and leaves the room, my rolled-up message in hand.

It almost makes me feel bad for using her to get past Aventine. Almost. But getting back to Robin and getting back to our full strength is the most important thing by far right now. Now all that's left to do is hope Robin sees what I'm really saying with my message.

* * *

 _Cordelia stakes her lance in the ground and holds her other hand up. Donnel stops immediately where he is and stakes his lance down too. While Cordelia is panting quite heavily, Donnel has only barely broken a sweat. Today they went about half and half on sparring victories, but it's evident that Donnel could go for a few more, and at this rate, he'd likely trounce her._

" _Let's stop there for today, Donnel. I don't want to overexert myself, even if it's clear you're still in decent shape to continue," Cordelia says. Ever since her conversation with Randall that day when she let loose all her insecurity on him, she's been making a more conscious effort to be honest about how Donnel is coming along. It still stings somewhat to admit that this boy of no more than 17 could seem to run laps around her, but then again, she was never the best runner._

" _As always, I thank ya, Cordelia," Donnel says kindly. "With you and me workin' together, them Plegians occupyin' the captial won't stand an apple's chance in a horse stable!"_

" _Right. Thank you for your hard work," she replies a little curtly._

" _Is, uh, somethin' wrong, Cordelia?" Donnel asks._

 _Cordelia sighs. "I mean, yes, but it's not your fault. You just reminded me about why I'll have to be on foot for the raid of Ylisstol in the first place, is all."_

 _Donnel frowns to match his teacher's expression. "Ah, right. Your pegasus didn't make it out of the attack at Anchorage. I'm sorry to make you think about it."_

 _She waves a hand. "No, no, it's not anything to apologize for. It's just something that's going to be on my mind for a while. He was such a steadfast companion for so long, and now I have to get used to the idea that he's gone. And as a result, I'll be a much weaker soldier for his loss."_

" _Well, I don't think you have anything to worry about when it comes to fightin'. Even on foot, you're one of the best fighters I've ever seen," Donnel replies. Cordelia doesn't reply immediately. "But I mean, maybe it's not so bad to remember Hyperion, long as you're doin' it fondly, right? I've had plenty of loved ones, man and beast, that have gone to the great beyond, and I could tell ya a million stories about all of em. And I wouldn't shy away from the idea none, cuz I love all of em enough that I don't want a single one of em to fade from memory, ya know?"_

 _After a moment, Cordelia sniffs and looks at Donnel. "You know, you've got a point, Donnel. I have so many wonderful experiences with Hyperion to recount, and I don't want to lose them. Do you know that I attended his foaling? I was so young, no more than seven or eight. I could have sworn I was about to faint from the sight. All that blood. But in what seemed like no time, he was on his feet, walking and trotting like he'd been learning for years."_

 _Donnel nods. "So pegasi are like horses in that sense. A foal will be walkin' no more'n a couple hours after he's born. Horses are really somethin' else like that."_

 _Cordelia gives a small laugh. "Well, we were fast friends more or less right away. We had the same disposition, I think. Both young, and both eager to prove ourselves. Both… probably excessively proud. I got along better with him than with any person I'd ever known. I think pegasi must have telepathic powers, because I'm sure he could always tell what I was thinking, what sort of mood I was in. And in time, I learned to read him the same way. We were there for each other when… well, frankly, when no one else in the pegasus knights order was. Of course, I later understood that what they were doing to me was no different than what they'd do with any new recruit, and in time, with dedication, I'd have earned their respect and companionship. But at the time, I was younger, and far more emotionally impressionable, than the average cadet, and as a result I took it much more personally than I'm sure they intended. But Hyperion was always there for me, no matter how difficult the road got."_

" _Sounds like the pair of ya were lucky to have each other," Donnel replies with an encouraging smile._

" _Gods, the number of times Hyperion had to sit through night after night of my sighs and moans, it's a wonder he didn't throw me off his back several hundred feet in the air during one of our training exercises," Cordelia laughs. "He was too good for me, that's certain."_

 _Now it's Donnel's turn to laugh. "Imagine the great Cordelia, thinkin' anyone else is too good for her. If I didn't know how humble you are, I'd swear that was a joke."_

 _Cordelia's cheeks redden to match her wind-reddened nose. "Donnel! We've talked about this many times now! I'm not 'the great Cordelia.' I'm just Knight Cordelia."_

" _Yeah, yeah, I know," Donnel replies. "But to a farm boy from the sticks like me, you gotta know how amazin' 'just Knight Cordelia' is in her own right."_

" _I think by now I've some idea, yes," Cordelia says, trying and failing to hide her flattered smile. "Anyway, I'm sure the farm boy from the sticks can handle cold weather like this all day, but I'm made of flimsier stuff, so I'll be warming up by the fire." She gathers up the other lances and vulneraries they brought with them to train, and before picking them up, pulls on a leather jacket and shivers briefly as the cool leather slowly begins to warm and insulate her._

" _That a new coat ya got there, Cordelia? Looks nice and all, but it, uh, kinda looks like it's wearin' you rather than the other way round," Donnel comments as the jacket's wide shoulders droop over her thinner frame._

" _Well, yes and no," she replies. "It was something I picked up for Randall some weeks ago, before we came back into Ylisse. He was always forgetting to pick up new clothes, and his old robes were just about falling off him. They were getting to be quite ridiculous, so I figured he'd need something to stave off the cold in the coming winter months. Unfortunately, when we were ambushed, he must not have had it with him, because it was still in his bed when we were clearing out. Of course I wasn't about to leave it, but I figure it's better off being put to use than just sitting somewhere, right?"_

" _I reckon the same thing. Gotta keep it warm for him, eh?"_

" _Yes." The pair walk in silence for a while as they make their way back to camp._

" _Do you think he's really alright, wherever he is?" Donnel asks._

" _I have to believe that." She hesitates a moment before going on. "If I knew that he had come to harm, and it was my fault for not protecting him from Gangrel…" Cordelia's voice chokes up a bit. "He has to be okay."_

" _Hey, I didn't mean it like that. I'm sure he's doing just fine, no matter what the enemy might be throwing at him. He might be a bit goofy sometimes, but he's tougher than two-week-old bread," Donnel says quickly in an effort to calm his teacher down. "He'd just better appreciate you keeping his coat safe for him, is all."_

 _Donnel's heart skips a beat when Cordelia lets the supplies drop from her hands and turns to pull him into a hug just before the sobs start forcing their way up her throat. "I'm just… so scared that Gangrel might… that he won't want a repeat of what happened with Exalt Emmeryn, so he'd just… Oh, Donnel!" If she says anything after that, Donnel can't make out what it might be. He allows her to weep into his shoulder, unsure what to say, but hoping that just being there for Cordelia might be enough._

* * *

 _General Campari groans in relief as he lowers himself into the Exalt's throne. The folks back home can say what they want about the Ylisseans, but at the very least, their royals know comfort. He turns over the small wooden box in his hands, wondering what manner of Ylissean bird might take up residence inside when he's finished with it._

 _Sometimes, over the years, he had envied Mustafa. The man was successful, well loved by his soldiers, and had a beautiful wife and an intelligent and promising son. The man had everything a person would be justified asking for in this life. But on this occasion, sitting here with his future-birdhouse, Campari felt no such envy._

 _In truth, he was never a man for romance, for personal attachments, or indeed for social interaction in general. He had a gift for strategy and a talent on the battlefield, once upon a time, but in his twilight years, he can tell that both are fading more and more by the day. And in truth, he would have liked to retire many years ago. He certainly had everything he needed to make a comfortable retirement for himself; all it would take is enough money to pay for a plot of land on which to grow some crops, build a small house, and create a personal bird sanctuary. It would have been nice, but as he sits on the throne that used to be occupied by Exalt Gideon, the scourge of the east, he wonders if the day that he can safely retire to that life will ever come._

 _He has a duty to his country, after all, and he will see it through. He may have helped Mustafa negotiate for peace those fifteen-odd years ago, but if his nation calls on him to fight again, he will answer. The bird sanctuary can wait._

 _The door to the throne room opens, and a messenger rushes in. "General, an update from the scouts."_

" _Let's hear it."_

" _The Shepherds are on the move toward Ylisstol, as predicted by His Majesty. They should arrive within the week."_

 _Campari sets the box on the arm of the throne as he rises from his seat with a grunt. "Well, we'd better begin preparing to greet them, then. They'll answer for the blow they dealt us at the Anchorage Estate."_

* * *

God damnit, the worst thing about being stuck here is all the God. Damn. Waiting. I feel like I'm about to worry myself out of my skull, and even with my daily meditations, I swear my spine is going to tense its way up and out the base of my neck. I'm just as busy as usual with keeping my patients healed up and all, but my mind could hardly be further from this place right now. My friends are going to arrive in Ylisstol in a matter of days, and I'm powerless to do anything to help. If I didn't think I really would get killed for trying to leave, I'd break out right now and try my luck at running to Ylisstol. I'm of course aware of how stupid that would be, but I feel like I'm going nuts here.

"Vasto, I feel like I'm going nuts here," I say as I lie awake on my couch-bed the night after Phila leaves with her unit to join the Shepherds. I can't stop jittering my leg and rolling around, and I can't relax enough to sleep.

"That's nice, Randall. Can you go nuts quieter?" Vasto grumbles from his bed.

"Come on, man. I feel like I'm trapped here. It's suffocating."

"Well, as a matter of fact, you _are_ trapped here, so that probably explains that feeling."

"Isn't there _anything_ I can do?" I ask.

"You can sleep," he replies.

"The hell I can. I've been trying for hours, feels like!"

"We couldn't have gone to bed more than twenty minutes ago."

"Gimme something I can work with, Vasto!"

I hear quick and intense rustling as he throws himself into a sitting position. "You wanna know what you can do? You can join us out in the field, actually taking the fight to these royalist bootlickers, instead of moaning all night."

"I can?" I ask probably a little too excitedly. The idea of leaving this villa to do anything at all is way too enticing a concept right now. Especially if it means taking on the Plegians directly.

"Well, I don't know. You can ask Lord Aventine in the morning. But quit bothering me, at least." I hear the sound of an exasperated body flopping back down on the mattress.

"Fine. Sleep tight, snugglemuffin."

"Someday I'm going to start gagging you before bed, I swear."

"Oooh~ Kinky, Vasto."

"I… Good night, Randall."

* * *

I ended up not sleeping much at all anyway, on account of everything swirling around in my head. On one hand, if Robin gets my message, the Shepherds will eventually come here. But that could be weeks from now, maybe longer if things don't go well at the capital. And in the meantime I hate feeling so impotent here. I understand that without Robin and the respawn power I'm living without my safety net, but that's how everyone else lives all the time, and they aren't letting themselves get cowed into staying out of the fight. I've been training, and I've been improving myself in various respects, so I'm not that same clueless undergrad who had to go through three runs just to figure out which way is up. So I decide that it's time to act.

I don't know if I can, or to what extent I should, trust Aventine. Try as I might, I can't find anything that he's necessarily lied to me about just yet, but then again, it's hard for me to see what his group is really up to when I'm cooped up here. I'm too close to the puzzle to see how the pieces fit. I won't frame it this way to him, but if I can go on a mission with Aventine's men, I can get some real evidence for what kind of operation he's running here. So far all I get to see is that his guys come home hurt pretty regularly, but that could be for any number of reasons. I want to know what's really going on here.

And that's why I'm entering his office uninvited the morning after Phila left. He doesn't look terribly surprised to see me.

"Ah, good morning, Randall. What can I do for you?" he asks, looking over the lenses of his glasses at me.

"I want you to send me on a mission with some of your men. Whatever their next operation is, I want in," I say, electing not to sit down but instead standing between the chairs with both palms flat on his desktop.

He raises a brow. "Is that so? And here I thought it was going to be a long while yet before you would be willing to assist us in the field. Any particular reason?"

"First off, I'm getting a bit stir-crazy being stuck here, especially knowing that Phila's riding to meet the Shepherds as we speak. I want something real to do. And second, I want to start taking the fight to the Plegians for real. I can be of more use healing on the front lines and keeping our fighters safe there than serving as a glorified vulnerary here. So how about it?"

He takes off his glasses and sets them on the desk. "Both very compelling reasons. And I suppose if my intention is to win your trust, it would do me little good to try and hold you back from an earnest attempt to help our cause. And indeed, if I hope to sway you to our side, perhaps showing you exactly what sort of activity our group engages with is a necessary step. Do you feel the same way?"

That son of a bitch. He knows that I mean this mission to be a test, which means it already can't be used as one. If you tell a participant that he's in a Turing test, then he's no longer in one. Unless he's trying to pull some Ex Machina shit, but whatever. He could agree to send me on a mission, only to make it a mission specifically tailored to win my sympathies rather than a frank look at their work. In any case, my test idea is kaput. I guess I have no choice but to ride this out.

"Yeah, I agree. I can't fully trust you guys until I see for myself what you actually do," I say, trying to sound less frustrated than I am.

He sits back in his chair. "Well, it appears I'm left with no choice. Do you want to go immediately? Captain Vasto is leading a battalion into a township the next province over to rid them of their Plegian occupiers this very day, as a matter of fact. Considering this location's position relative to the capital, it is likely to be well-staffed by Plegians, making it an ideal source of reinforcements for those occupying Ylisstol if called for aid in the event of an extended siege. However, if the chain of command is severed and the people are made to rally, we can both cut an important resource away from the forces in Ylisstol. It will also remove a candidate location that the Plegians might flee to when they are driven out of the city grounds. It's likely this will be an uncommonly violent encounter, even by our standards. Vasto will be leaving around midday today if you're committed to this idea."

I consider for a moment. "Alright, then that's what I'll do. If it means providing direct aid to the Shepherds, I'm on board."

He nods. "I thought you might like this idea. Why don't you go tell Vasto that you'll be coming along with him?"

"Oh, I bet he's gonna love to get that memo," I say as I turn to leave. I hear Aventine quietly laugh at my quip as I head for the door.

It isn't difficult to find Vasto, since he only really frequents two or three locations when he's around here: the dining hall for food, the courtyard to whale on the dummies for a while, or off in Kinba's pen. Usually that last one. I get the impression that despite his talent and natural leadership capability, he doesn't really get along with others much, if you can believe it.

As expected, I find him outside, patting Kinba's face and laughing as she closes her eyes and snort-sighs contentedly. As I approach, he hears me coming, and I watch the smile melt from his face as he realizes what the grin on my face must mean.

"Oh, don't tell me," he moans.

"Waiting for orders, cap'n~" I sing. "Hi Kinba," I add, to which she responds with a dismissive sniff in my direction.

"I didn't think you were serious! What the hell am I gonna do with an airhead like you?" Vasto demands.

"Hey, I'll have you know, I'm pretty damn capable on the battlefield. Just because I'm a charming ray of sunshine in peacetime doesn't mean I can't kick some ass out there," I reply defensively. I almost add 'remember who took your arm and half your leg?' but then think better of it.

Even so, maybe he can tell I'm thinking it, because he growls, "I have no evidence of your discipline. All I've seen of you on the battlefield is a botched Rescue and a losing fight against Gangrel. Anything else you say you can do is just something you're asking me to take your word at."

I shrug. "Well, I guess you'll find out either way. Aventine's given his approval for me to join."

Vasto's shoulders droop. "That old bastard. Fine. But don't think you're riding topside with me. You'll be marching with the boys on the ground, so you'd better be ready for that."

"Man, like eighty percent of my time with the Shepherds was marching. I think I can manage." Though on deeper reflection, how much of that was spent in either the medical cart or the command wagon? Whatever, that's none of his business. How bad could walking through temperate and normal Ylisse be after the dual fiery and icy hellscapes of Plegia and Ferox?

* * *

Turns out, pretty fucking exhausting. The weather isn't nearly as bad, to be sure, but walking across the province is still a tall order, and we're definitely moving double-time in an effort to get to the town of Etzelsfort before the Shepherds reach Ylisstol. Our group is relatively small and travels light, so we make pretty good time, but damn if I don't grow to resent Vasto a little bit, literally flying circles over us like some kind of overgrown reptilian vulture. Kinba's there too.

We're dressed in Plegian military standard outfits to blend in on the road, which for my part means I'm dressed as a Plegian merc, decked out in mostly light brown and red, though they didn't have any of those badass shoulder shields to spare for me. Vasto also isn't trusting me with a proper weapon, which means I'm carrying my staff and nothing else. Little does Vasto know, I've done just as much damage with staves in hand as I ever have with proper weapons.

I'm also testing my theory about the reusability and interchangeability of staff orbs today by bringing a few extra orbs to swap into my staff when needed. Currently sitting in the receiver is the same Heal orb I came into this world with, but it's going to be spent soon. I aim to see if I can slap a Mend orb in, do some healing, then swap it out for another orb on the fly. Vasto expressly forbade me from bringing a Rescue orb, perhaps unsurprisingly, but that wasn't about to stop me. I want to be as versatile as possible. So as far as Vasto knows, the three orbs sitting in my pouch are one Barrier and two Mends. He's two-thirds right.

For the most part, there isn't a lot of conversation between among the roundabout dozen of us on the ground. Our focus is getting to Etzelsfort quickly and without drawing attention to ourselves. Even so, I do get a few chances to chat with some of the guys.

One standout member of our party is a _huge_ guy with an axe who goes by the name Pike. He looks to be about in his early to mid-twenties. Obviously by way of disguise, he's wearing a set of that weird pelt armor that Plegian axe fighters all seem to wear for some reason. I learn he's actually Ylissean, hailing from a village not that far from the Farfort, down in the deep southeast. Looking at him, I can see why Donnel grows up to be the übermensch of the Shepherds. They must feed their boys like crazy down there or something.

"So Pike, what made you want to join up with Aventine's guys?" I ask as we book it down a country road.

"My father was sick. Just walking around was difficult enough for him. Gideon's men drafted him anyway. Within two weeks, we'd received notice of his death on the front lines. I never forgot, and never forgave. I'll see the Exalts taken out of power before I see one more boy's sick father taken from him so he can go die on the front lines, fighting an enemy we never even saw on our island," he replies.

"Damn. I'm sorry that happened to you. I don't know what to say," I reply.

"Doesn't matter. Nothing anyone could say would ever bring him back. And I know about you, anyway. You're a Shepherd. You'd stick up for the Exalts no matter what they do."

"Well first off, not all Exalts are like Gideon. Surely you know how much Emmeryn has tried to keep war away from Ylisse ever since she took the throne," I retort.

"For all the good that did us," he replies.

"And second, just because I work for the Shepherds, it doesn't mean I'm blind to the mistakes we make. The Shepherds are taking the fight to the new aggressor, King Gangrel, and they're trying to liberate their people. Your people."

"Well that's well and good, but how long before we have another Gideon? Do our countries get to take turns having shite leaders that throw their own people on the fire every generation? No, I think Aventine's got the right of it. We need leaders who are chosen by the people. Even people in a far-off corner of the world like mine," Pike says firmly.

I sigh, partly in resignation and partly to catch my breath a bit. "I don't know. Things like this are always harder than they seem."

"All the more reason to let the people work them out together."

I don't know what to say. I'm left kind of speechless. There are things I could say, like that the world is going to need the Exalts very soon, and that setting up a new system of national government should wait until that crisis is averted, but that would hardly help in this situation. It doesn't really matter, since he jogs up ahead anyway.

I have a few conversations like this with other members of the group. Eileen the Plegian archer who lost both her parents and her older brother to the war effort. Trevor the knight from northern Ylisse who watched his people starve as food stores ran dry and Ylissean soldiers took what little food they had to give it to the military. Banks from the far west coast of Plegia who was sent to the front line himself, nearly dying in three different battles and losing most of his comrades in arms. Everyone had a story, and they were all horrifying. And they all placed blame for their troubles on the same two sets of people: the royals of Plegia, and the Exalts of Ylisse.

And I couldn't really tell them that they were wrong. The best I could offer any of them is that the current Exalts are doing their best to end the war and restore peace. But from the mouth of a Shepherd, I can tell that my words have a significantly muted effect. The truth is, these people have every right to be angry. Even fifteen-plus years later, it's obvious that the effects of the last war never really went away.

Hardly the best road trip I've ever been on, all things considered.

As the sun starts calling it quits, we finally crest the top of a steady incline that we've been climbing for what feels like hours. Down the hill a ways, probably a couple miles out, we can make out the walls of a decently-sized town. The town looks mostly beige and brown, likely mostly comprised of stucco, surrounded on all sides by a tall wall with only one gate visible on this side. As the group stops to take a quick breather, Vasto descends from the sky and lands Kinba in front of us.

"That's Etzelsfort. Let's get clear on the plan here, before Kinba and I get too close and start drawing attention.

"There's no way we're getting through that gate in a timely manner without being let in. To that end, we're going to have the lot of you playing the part of the Plegian soldiers. You're going to flee toward the town, screaming for help and making a nice, big fuss. You're going to tell the guards that you're being chased by a rogue enemy that's been terrorizing the countryside for weeks now." He grins. "The knight in black, astride his armored wyvern, has been destroying Plegian patrol groups, and now he's here to destroy yours. The best part is, the part about my attacks being well-known is true. I have it on good faith that rumors about Kinba and me have been circulating for some time now among the occupying forces in Ylisse. As a result, hopefully you'll be believed and let in. Of course, that means that I won't be able to help you all much when you're inside. I'll be too busy distracting the guards on the outer perimeter.

"Meanwhile, your target is the captain in charge of the occupying forces. His name is Dent. He should be distinguishable from the others by his nice, shiny paladin armor. I'm told he's fairly young, maybe thirty or so. Apart from that, it's not known what he looks like. Keep an eye out for expensive-looking swords. Try not to blow your cover until one of you finds him. I don't know if he's the 'rush out and meet the enemy' type or if he's more of a 'let me cower under my bed and let the enlisted men handle it' kind of man. In either case, once he's dispatched, your objective is to get clear of the town. _Do not_ immediately come back the way we came. Any direction is fine, so long as it's not this way. Our regrouping point will be about a mile behind us, at that grove just east of the road we passed a little bit ago. Make sure you either lose or kill all pursuers before you start making your way over there. We clear on the plan?" Nods all around.

Vasto slips his black helmet on, then raises his axe. "Good. May the gods watch over us." I'm surprised to hear Vasto say that last part. Is he actually a religious guy himself, or does he just use it as a sort of rallying call for his men? I guess it doesn't matter, because either way, it seems to have worked. "Now, start running. Go!"

And go we do. We conserve some energy at first, running a little half-heartedly because good lord are we already tired. But as we draw closer to the town, maybe a mile out, Vasto turns up the heat. Literally. He has Kinba breathe fire at us. Well, behind us, but I can still feel the heat on my back as we're forced to pick up the pace, big time. Our frantic shouts to the gate guards to please, please, for the love of Grima let us in aren't really that insincere by the time we get that far.

Thankfully, the first part of the plan goes off without a hitch. The guards open the gate and let us in, though less encouragingly, they also close the gate behind us as we enter the town. Vasto is forced to divert from the town as a couple archers on the top of the wall respond quickly with a few shots.

Inside the town walls, the Plegians are on high alert already. "Where is your commanding officer?" a Plegian merc demands as the rest of the soldiers prepare to engage with Vasto.

"Dead, killed by that rider," Eileen replies instantly.

"And why didn't you use that bow of yours to take him down?"

She blanches. "Um…"

I jump in to her defense. "She froze up. Just like she is now. Bad habit of hers."

"Bad habit? I'll say! Sounds like it's already cost people their lives!" the merc shouts. "None of you move anywhere! We'll deal with you when this dastard is taken care of." He storms off to climb the ladder to the top of the wall to join his comrades.

Of course, we all move somewhere. As a group, we book it toward the center of town, trying to get a read on the layout of the buildings so we can get a better idea of where the captain might be. Someone yells for us to stop as we leave the entrance to town, but no one gives chase right away.

It's going well so far. Even this far into town, we can still clearly hear Kinba making a scene and roaring to keep the soldiers' attention on Vasto.

"Any ideas on where to find this guy?" Trevor asks. No one has any immediate response.

And now it's time for the dilemma of whether splitting up is smart or not. Normally I'd hate the idea of losing our combined strength, but we need to cover more ground to find this guy, and we want to avoid drawing too much attention for as long as we can.

"Alright," I say, standing in the middle of the group, "we break into groups of three. Search larger, more important looking buildings, and be on the lookout for easy ways to get out of town if you can. If any group finds him and kills him, you get out of town right afterward. The rest of the groups, if you haven't found him in the space of an hour, you also make a beeline for the exit. This operation is important, but without people to fight this revolution, there won't be one, so no dying, got it?" Everyone either nods or verbally approves.

And so we break into teams. I end up with Pike and Eileen for the other members of my little party, which suits me just fine. A melee expert and a ranged fighter, even a fraidy-cat one, is a dynamic I can work with. We split away from the others and head toward the north side of town, the side we couldn't well see during our approach from the south.

It looks like this was never really meant to be a military outpost of a town. The walls exist, but none of these building particularly strike me as being designed for military use. I see no armory, no training yard, nothing that would indicate a center of command. Which means the Plegians will likely have repurposed some other building to be their headquarters in town. Probably someplace with a decent number of beds to serve as a barracks for the soldiers. I suspect we're looking for an inn.

Our search is interrupted by a group of four soldiers coming around the corner. The moment they see us, swords and lances are raised threateningly at our faces.

"You there! I don't recognize you! Who are you?" a soldier demands.

"We were fleeing from the black-armored wyvern rider and came here. We're from a local patrol route," I say.

"In that case, come with us. We're keeping every unknown element contained until that beast is taken care of." The soldiers move to detain us.

We don't have time for this. I turn my staff over in my hands and flick the bottom of it up to hit the front guy in the sack, and that seems to work wonders based on the squeal and subsequent buckled knees.

The others are quick to spring into action. Thankfully, Pike, being as I mentioned _huge_ , bats aside one of them with a swing of his axe and still has time to parry the stab from a second one. Eileen backs up a few paces quickly and takes a shot at the man currently attacking Pike, leaving the third guy for me.

He takes a swing with his sword, which proves easy enough to block. I can tell these guys not only didn't expect to be fighting today, but doubly weren't expecting to fight who they thought were other Plegian soldiers. He takes another swing diagonally from above, and when I block it, his blade slides down the staff and gives my hand a nice cut. However, while he's doing that, I'm getting close enough to lower my shoulder into his chest and shove him to the ground. I'm reminded of the battle at Darros Town those months ago as I brain this guy repeatedly with my much heavier staff. Soon, living or not, he's at least not moving anymore.

Just in time for the newly uniballed soldier to take a stab at me with his lance. The blade enters my side and seizes the breath out of my lungs in an instant, but thankfully he isn't able to do anything else before Pike relieves him of his head.

"Randall! Are you alright?" Pike asks, which frankly I find a little silly.

"Aside from the hole in my side, I'm goddamn peachy," I reply through gritted teeth.

"Can't you use your staff to heal the wound?" he asks.

"Doesn't work on me. Someone else would have to do it," I reply.

"That seems stupid," he says.

As I struggle to breathe normally while I get to my feet, I groan, "Don't I fucking know it right now."

"Trouble!" Eileen shouts, and when I look where she's pointing, I see what she means. We've been caught in the act by more Plegians, including—

Oh. Well that must be our guy. Captain Dent's armor shines in the emerging moonlight as his horse charges down the alley toward us. Meanwhile, even faster than his horse are the twin Elfire blasts that fly at us on either side of him, cast by a couple of dark mages.

It's all I can do to leap out of the way of Dent's sword, but that means taking one of those blasts head-on. I grit my teeth from the singeing pain, but frankly compared to the stab wound it's not terrible. Mostly I just don't want to lose yet another outfit to fire magic this soon.

Pike, more ready to take a physical attack than a magic one, instead stands his ground and tries to counter the captain's attack, but against a charging paladin, there was no way he was going to take that standing up. He manages to block the attack, but in the process is knocked onto his back and slides several feet backward.

Eileen, regrettably, couldn't manage to avoid the other Elfire, and cries in pain as she takes the hit. Of the three of us, she's now definitely the most hurt.

The captain's charge forces him to ride a couple dozen yards past us to give his horse time to slow down, time that I can use to get over to Eileen. I scramble across the street, wincing from the pain in my side but eventually reaching her. As I heal up the multiple burn wounds on her chest and arms, the Heal orb in my staff finally breaks with a startling _pop!_ , leaving me with an empty receiver.

While Pike gets to his feet to stop the next attack from Dent and Eileen frantically readies her bow, I reach into my pouch, grab the Barrier orb I brought with me, and slap it into my staff. Before the next shots from the mages arrive, I manage to put up a sheet barrier that diminishes the effect of both spells to almost nothing by the time they reach us.

Eileen gets a shot off, and it's mercifully on-target. One of the mages falls to the ground, clutching his chest. Meanwhile, the sound of approaching hooves has both of us wince and brace for impact before we hear a vicious battle cry from Pike and an immediately following _clang_ of steel on steel. Dent charges past us again, shouting in frustration.

Another Elfire spell comes our way, but my sheet barrier takes care of it pretty handily, even though I'm now very definitely tired. No matter, I just have to get them through this.

A second shot from Eileen misses, but her third shot finds its mark, and the other mage is brought down. Another charge from Dent, but Pike leaps in front of us to take the brunt of the attack once again, this time suffering a significant blow that knocks him back into us.

While Eileen keeps Dent off us with covering fire, I wrench the Barrier orb out of my staff and swap it with my Mend orb. I don't know if it damaged the Barrier orb to remove it prematurely, but I can't worry about that now. Fortunately, despite how grim it looks, the cut on Pike's chest is easily healed.

Now we're three on one. Or I guess, being fair, more like two and a half, since I'm not doing much at this point. Even so, the captain realizes this too, and instead of charging at us again, he turns to try and book it the other way. Eileen takes another shot, but it _pings_ harmlessly off his armor from this distance.

I remember the last orb in my pouch. Swapping out the Mend for the Rescue, I point my staff at the retreating paladin and focus. It's been a while since I've done this. Focus on his position, where he's going to be, how he's moving. The position of his limbs, the up-and-down of his gallop… now!

 _Flash._ Dent, freshly snatched off his mount's saddle, falls to the ground in a confused heap in front of us. Eileen and Pike both yell in surprise, but thankfully Pike regroups quickly enough to bring the axe down on the captain before he can get his bearings. Dent stops moving, finally good and dead.

The three of us allow ourselves a couple seconds to breathe. I in particular am not doing so good. My companions are quick to strip some fabric from Dent's clothes to give me something to use as a makeshift bandage, which is at least better than nothing. I need to get a vulnerary soon, though.

For now, the goal is getting the hell out of town. I stagger behind the others as we make our way to the north wall, hoping to find a second gate there. We find no such gate. In fact, this side of town is comparatively pretty much empty, no doubt because of the distraction we can still faintly hear Vasto making at the south gate.

At least, that's how it seems at first, before we hear a shout of "Over there! You three! Identify yourselves!" from behind and to the right of us.

"Ah fuck." That is too many soldiers to deal with right now. At least eight or nine. We gotta get the hell outta Dodge.

Oh thank God, there's a ladder up the wall. We scramble up the ladder, every lift of my left leg to the next rung sending a fresh ripple of pain through my body. By the time we reach the top, a few soldiers have already started climbing after us, and a couple arrows whiz past us from the archers below.

The moment I clear the top rung, Pike is quick to sever the thick ropes keeping the ladder upright against the wall with his axe, sending the ladder and its climbers plummeting back to the ground.

We hit the deck as another arrow narrowly misses Eileen's head. We scoot to the far side and peer over the edge. That's a good twenty-five foot drop to the grass below. We don't even get a nice Assassin's Creed hay bale to break our fall.

"Alright, here's how we do it. Pike, you drop first. If you break something, I think I should be able to heal you from up here. Maybe. And then can you catch Eileen when she jumps?" I ask.

He nods. "She's a slight woman. Shouldn't be too hard. I don't know about you though."

I guess I don't have a choice. "Wanna dangle me over the edge and drop me? Might hurt less."

He shrugs. "Sounds as good as anything. We should go now. They're going to find another ladder soon."

I slowly, painfully lower myself down the wall as much as possible before I reach the limit of Pike's reach. From there, he lets go of me, and I do my best to roll when I hit the ground to dispel my momentum. It kinda works? I still twist my ankle a good bit, but that's a fair trade. Pike goes next, dropping after dangling himself over the edge as low as possible. He hits the ground hard and shouts in pain, but I'm there quickly to heal up his leg (thankfully, I remember to swap the Rescue orb for the Mend orb first). Finally, Eileen drops down with a frightened yelp, landing in Pike's waiting arms. We've officially escaped the town alive.

We start booking it out of town, but when Pike decides I'm too slow, he scoops me up and slings me over his shoulder like I'm his son or something. It also hurts like fuck, but frankly, every movement does at this point. The pain is the only thing keeping me even remotely present at this point.

The next long while is sort of a blur to me. We run north until we're satisfied that no one's following us, then we start making a wide loop around the town toward the east, keeping about a mile between us and Etzelsfort at all times. Thankfully, we never run into the enemy. Concerningly, we also never run into any of our companions. I don't know how long it is before we make it back up the hill and down the road to that grove Vasto pointed out, but the moon is already losing to the pull of the horizon by the time we arrive. We're the first people to arrive, likely because we were the ones to find and dispatch the captain, so we were in the biggest rush to leave town.

Once we get to the grove, Pike sets me down against a tree. "It may be some time before the others arrive. If you need to sleep, you can count on us to keep watch. You've taken the most damage by far," he says.

"No, I gotta keep watch with you guys. I can't rest yet," I mumble with as much gusto as I can muster.

"Randall, please, you've done plenty. Let us handle it," Eileen says with a smile.

"No way, guys… I can't…"

And that's all I remember before my iron eyelids swing shut and refuse to open again.

* * *

"...this."

Huh?

"You listening? I'm telling you to drink this."

Ugh, who turned on the sun? Too damn bright.

Someone grabs my chin and tips my head back, pulling my mouth open. Liquid rosemary is poured down my throat, and my body hungrily absorbs every drop before it even gets as far as my stomach.

Tingling. Pins and needles. A lot of irritation in my side and my ankle. I breathe shallowly as my body feels like it's being zapped by carpet static a million times a second.

And then it's over. I open my eyes.

"Oh. Hi, Vasto." He's glaring down at me, empty vial in hand.

"Hello yourself, Randall. We've got people that need healing. Hop to it," Vasto says, walking away from me.

I remember myself and what we're doing here. I spring to my feet and frantically do a headcount of everyone here. I breathe a sigh of relief as I could twelve. That's all of us.

Eileen holds my staff out with a smile. I take it and start looking at what sort of wounds everyone's sustained. The answer is a lot. No one escaped the battle unscathed. No one looks on the edge of death or anything, but these kinds of wounds would have been dangerous if I hadn't been here to take care of them. Still, in fairly short order, the gang is healed up.

"Pike and Eileen informed us on the situation. Captain Dent is dispatched, thanks to the combined efforts of you three. As for everyone else, of course they never found the captain themselves, but they did end up taking out quite a few Plegian occupiers in the meantime. Additionally, some of the townsfolk reportedly got in on the action, which is always encouraging. And as a bonus, we all lived. Mission success, everyone," Vasto says with a rare smile. "Now, let's get the hell out of here."

Everyone lets out a brief cheer, and then it's back to hoofing it. Great. At least my wounds have been healed up.

"Looks like things are looking up for… uh… what do you guys call yourselves?" I ask the group as we march double-time back toward the south.

"What do you mean?" Trevor asks.

"I mean, does this organization have like a name or something? At some point I started calling you guys the Coup Crew in my head, but surely there's an actual title," I reply.

Collective murmuring from the group. "Really? Nothing? Come on, how are you guys gonna rally people to your cause if the cause doesn't even have a name?"

"Well, what do you think we should call it?" Banks asks.

I don't have an answer right away. "I'll think about it and get back to y'all."

* * *

 _The campfire is decidedly grim, as it has been every night since the Shepherds left Anchorage. Despite their victory over Gangrel's forces and the undeniable blow it dealt to the enemy, victory came with a steep price once again. A small contingent of Feroxi soldiers were selected to stay behind, help the villagers to rebuild, and keep the estate safe in the event that the Plegians sent another force to retaliate. Still, the loss of many Ylissean and Feroxi lives, as well as the capture of Randall by Gangrel's men, have left an undeniable damper on the mood among Ylisse's finest._

 _Perhaps the most impacted by these developments is Sumia, who, while already a quiet, unassuming girl, has hardly spoken a word to anyone in days. The shock of seeing her childhood home, her family's land, laid to fiery waste was traumatizing enough, to say nothing of the incredible sorrow and anger at the deaths of so many of her family's beloved vassals. And on top of everything else, every time she so much as glances at Robin across the fire, the tactician's appalled question echoes through her head:_

"Gangrel's here? And you LEFT him there?"

 _Cordelia may have stood up for her at the time, but in Sumia's heart she knows there is no excuse. If she had just had more faith in Kestrel, if she had just fought harder, if her aim had been truer and she had skewered Gangrel then and there, Randall would still be here. The war would be on the decline. She had an opportunity to turn everything around, but instead she made everything worse._

 _And now, looking at Robin's distant expression as she stares into the campfire, and knowing that she is directly responsible for Robin's pain, as well as her own, she can hardly bear sitting here._

 _The only comforts she has now are the knowledge that Tricia and her parents are safe, Khan Flavia's assurance that her home isn't completely undefended, and the red and white swirled lollipop she twists in her hand, given to her by Gaius._

" _I know it's a pretty-looking thing, Sumia, but you're supposed to, you know, eat it?" Gaius says with a gentle nudge of the elbow, punctuating his statement with a lick of his own matching pop._

" _Mmhmm," Sumia replies, and raises the lollipop to her mouth to give it a lick. She does have to admit that it's pleasantly sweet. "Thank you, Gaius," she says, the faintest ghost of a smile threatening her otherwise somber expression. Thankfully, he doesn't push her to say anything else. Despite his often rough exterior and his usual teasing ways, he seems to implicitly understand that what she needs right now is earnest kindness._

 _No one around the campfire seems keen to say much of anything. The battle for Ylisstol is only days away, and their morale has already taken a major hit. The usual candidate for lifting everyone's spirits, Nowi, has long since retired to bed, as her hyperactive nature (not to mention her new pebble-collection duties) often leave her too tired to last much beyond dinner in the evening. It seems that everyone is content to let the morose mood have its run of the camp and instead try to keep focused on the battle ahead._

 _That is, until the second most relentlessly cheerful of all the Shepherds arrives to save the day. "Hey everyone," Lissa says a bit tentatively, feeling a bit reluctant to break such a thick silence. "Mind if we join you? Emm said she'd like to join everyone."_

 _The Shepherds are quick to clear a spot for the princesses near the fire, allowing Lissa and her fluffy-coat-wearing elder sister to sit near its warm embrace._

" _Milady, it's so wonderful to have you join us!" Vaike speaks up with a rare tone of respect. "We we've been a mite worried about you, but you're looking right as rain about now." Beside him, Sully looks at him as if she's found herself sitting next to a total stranger._

 _Still, Vaike isn't the only one acting differently. Even though the Exalt has been traveling with the group for months now, since she's usually interred in the medical wagon, she has had an air of exclusivity to her. As a result, her being seated at the fire like everyone else has most of the Shepherds, at least the Ylissean ones, feeling quite starstruck. All around her, people are fixing their hair, adjusting their collars, and so on._

" _H-hello, everyone," Emmeryn says softly. "Are you… cold?"_

 _Lissa giggles. "Maribelle and I have started working with her on conversation techniques. She likes to start every conversation with asking how everyone's doing. That's so Emm, isn't it?"_

" _Milady, I'm not cold at all, but if you're cold, please take my hat!" Ricken almost shouts, holding out his wide-brimmed mage's hat to her. She hesitates a moment before taking it gingerly and placing it on her head._

 _The smile she gives the young mage just about melts his heart where he sits. "Thank you," she says, then falters. "I'm sorry, I don't… Your name?"_

" _O-oh! I'm Ricken, milady!" Ricken stutters when he remembers himself._

" _Ooh, that's a good point. Emm probably doesn't know a whole lot of names here. Why doesn't everyone go around and say their name so she can start learning? Here, Emm, you start," Lissa says, placing a hand on her sister's shoulder._

" _Okay. I'm Emmeryn," says Emmeryn._

" _And you know my name already, don'tcha?" Lissa prompts._

" _Lissa," Emmeryn replies, earning a smile from her little sister._

" _There ya go! Now everyone else. And Emm, when they tell you their name, say it after they do, okay?"_

" _Okay."_

 _And so the Shepherds each introduce themselves to their Exalt, and she takes her first step in learning who they are. She stumbles on a few, such as 'Gray-gor' and the many-syllabled 'Olivia' ("You can just call me 'O' if that's easier, milady!"), but for the most part it's a successful exercise. At last, she works her way around the circle to Lissa's right-hand man, sitting behind her and Lissa._

" _My name is Lon'qu," he says, reluctant to make eye contact with the woman in front of him._

" _Long… koo?" Emmeryn asks._

" _Lon. Qu," he repeats._

" _Lon. Qu," she parrots._

" _Correct."_

" _Ooh, Emm, you're so good at this!" Lissa squeals, hugging Emmeryn around the shoulders while Emmeryn keeps looking at Lon'qu, waiting for visual confirmation that she said it right. After a few seconds, it becomes clear to Lissa what's going on. "Lon'qu, I don't think she knows 'correct.'"_

 _Reluctantly, Lon'qu forces himself to make eye contact with the woman staring at him. "Yes, that's right. Lon'qu."_

 _She smiles. "You're with… Lissa. All the time. I see you… wait for Lissa. Outside the wagon. Thank you."_

 _If it weren't for the cover of night, Lon'qu's reddened cheeks would be on display for all to see. "It's just orders."_

 _Lissa laughs aloud. "Aww, is it still just orders, Lon'qu? And here I thought we were buddies!" A few Shepherds join her in laughing._

" _I'm no one's 'buddy,' and never have been," he grumbles._

" _Be a sport, willya?" Lissa asks, hopping to her feet and plopping herself on the ground beside him, making him flinch and instinctively scoot away. "What's your deal with girls, anyway?"_

" _I don't have a 'deal' either. And that's all I want to say on the subject."_

" _Ho ho, touchy subject," Gaius laughs from across the fire. "A girl dump you for another guy or something?"_

" _No," Lon'qu replies sullenly. It's not the first time this subject has come up since he joined the Shepherds, and he long ago learned the best way to make the topic die was to adamantly refuse to fuel it further._

 _Emmeryn speaks up again. "Even if you do it… because you have to… it makes Lissa happy."_

" _W-well, I dunno that I'd go_ that _far, Emm," Lissa laughs nervously. "I've gotten used to having a bodyguard maybe, but Captain No Girls in My Secret Fort over here doesn't exactly have me skipping for joy or anything."_

 _Emmeryn looks confused. "But… When I make you sad… I see you leave with… Lon'qu. You smile."_

" _Oh, Emm, you don't make me sad! You could never do that!" Lissa cries, rushing back to her sister's side. "I love you more than anything, silly!"_

" _But I make you… frown, sometimes," Emmeryn replies._

" _It's not like that, Emm. Sometimes… I get frustrated. But that's not your fault, okay?" Lissa says, glancing around apologetically at the others, who look on sympathetically._

" _Frus...trated?" Emmeryn asks. Lissa struggles to come up with an explanation that won't hurt her sister's feelings or confuse her even more._

 _From where Lon'qu sits, farther now from the rest of the group as a result of scooting away from Lissa, he can still see the pain evident on his charge's face. In that moment, the girl beneath the smiles becomes clearer to him than ever. Lon'qu surprises everyone by speaking up on Lissa's behalf. "It's not that you make her sad. She just wishes she could be with you all the time. So when she has to leave, it makes her unhappy. That's what being frustrated is. When something makes you upset, but you can't change it. But she doesn't want to show anyone else that she's frustrated, so she smiles for me anyway."_

 _Emmeryn takes a few seconds to look at the ground in front of her and put together what Lon'qu told her. In the meantime, Lissa gives her bodyguard a look of equal parts gratitude and amazement. This is by far the most Lissa has ever heard him say at one time, and it was to come to her aid. Her old assertion that Lon'qu must hate her starts to chip away in her mind, and she can finally give him a smile that she means from the bottom of her heart._

" _Being with me… makes you happy?" Emmeryn asks Lissa at last._

" _Obviously! You're my big sister!" Lissa cries with another firm embrace that knocks Ricken's hat askew, which Emmeryn is quick to return with a smile. At last, the Exalt seems contented._

 _The sight is so sentimentally charged that poor Sumia can't help but hiccup out a few sobs between licks of her lollipop. Gaius gently droops an arm around her shoulders and rubs her arm soothingly with his hand, choosing to laugh quietly to himself at Sumia's display rather than join her in engaging with his own emotions on the subject._

 _With the tension diffused, the now exhausted Shepherds don't take long to decide to retire to bed. One by one, starting with the Exalted sisters and their bodyguard, they trickle out of the fire's circle of light and warmth to venture the chilly few feet to the tents nearby. Soon, only a few Shepherds remain: Sumia, Gaius, and Robin. The latter played along with Emmeryn's introductions game before, and has otherwise been paying attention to what went on, but now that the energy has died back down, she's back to ruminating in the firelight._

 _Inspired by the moment that the princesses just shared, Sumia decides to try and put things right as well. She gently shrugs off Gaius' hand on her shoulder and walks around the dying fire toward the tactician. "Robin, I want to say something."_

 _Robin jumps, as if startled that someone is talking to her. "Oh, yes. Sorry, what? My mind is a little distant at the moment."_

" _I want to apologize to you. I should have worked harder to keep Randall safe, and I didn't. I know I mess a lot of stuff up, but this really takes the cake. I just want to tell you I'm sorry," Sumia says, her voice still a little ragged from the emotional scene from before._

" _What are you apologizing to me for? It's not like you defied an order or anything. You made the smartest choice you could think of at the time. I won't fault you for that," Robin says, not gently, but not unkindly either._

" _I just… I know I can do better. Or, I want to. I'm going to work to be better. But my dumb mistakes got Randall kidnapped."_

" _Trust me, Sumia, I understand the impulse to blame yourself for everything that goes wrong. Not a day goes by that I don't think if I had just worked harder, made a more complete strategy, Exalt Emmeryn's memory and Frederick's spine could have been saved. Randall could have been recovered somehow and brought back to us. If I had ordered that we pursue the Plegians more doggedly instead of taking the time to regroup, we might have caught them in time to get him back. There's so much that I wish I had done differently. But it won't do to dwell on those things unless they're helping us to learn. There are lessons to be learned in failure, but not in wallowing in those failures. I'm doing my best to move forward, and I hope you will too," Robin says._

 _Sumia takes a breath to steady herself better. "Okay. I just… I know how close you and Randall are, and all, and I know you've taken it pretty hard, so I…" She pauses, not sure where to take her thought. She can't even get an apology right._

" _We're going to get him back. That's all there is to it. I'll do whatever it takes," Robin tells the fire._

 _Despite herself, Sumia can't help but feel a bit intimidated by the expression in Robin's eyes. She'd heard rumors of how scary Robin can look when she gets angry, but now she sees it firsthand, and it's every bit what the rumors promised._

" _Wow, Bubbles. I want to get him back too, but I'll be damned if that isn't a demonic look you've got there," Gaius says, having stood from his spot across the fire and walked over to Sumia's side._

 _Robin blinks, then looks up at the pair. "Sorry. I know I can get pretty intense sometimes. Randall's always getting on my case about lightening up, but I guess without him here, I sort of… let that side of me go a bit, huh?"_

 _Gaius snorts. "You make it sound like he keeps you on a leash."_

" _Hey, if anything,_ I'm _the one keeping_ him _on a leash," Robin fires back. "You've seen what kind of trouble he can get into if he's left unsupervised."_

" _The dogs taking turns walking each other, huh?" Gaius laughs. Sumia joins him in laughing at the mental image. After a moment, even Robin herself can't help but join in._

" _You know, maybe there's something to that," Robin admits._

" _Well, rest assured, Bubbles. We're all just as committed as you to getting your boyfriend back," Gaius says with a wink._

 _Robin, predictably, scowls at the comment, which makes Gaius all the happier. "How many times am I gonna have to have this conversation?"_

" _At least one more, as long as it keeps getting a reaction like that, I'm afraid," Gaius replies with a smug grin._

" _Oh, joy," Robin grumbles._

 _The conversation is interrupted by a terrifyingly loud_ thud _some fifteen feet away from the fire, making all three of the Shepherds left at the fire jump. Robin instantly has a tome in her hand, revealing that she'd been keeping it in her sleeve all along. However, the lack of any noise or movement afterward slowly releases the immediate tension after a few seconds._

 _The trio slowly make their way over to the source of the noise. A dark, approximately fist-sized shape has smashed into the ground, leaving a small crater in the frozen clay. Keeping her tome ready in the other hand, Robin crouches and gingerly prods it, then, realizing it appears to just be a rock, lifts it to inspect it. Finding a small sheet of parchment rolled up and tied around the stone, she quickly unties the knot in the twine. With Sumia and Gaius flanking her on either side to try and get a look as well, she carries the note over to the dying fire and unrolls it._

 _The trio can just barely make out what the note says thanks to the combination of poor lighting and poor handwriting, but once it's clear what it is and who it's from, each of them hungrily rushes through reading it all the same._

" _Is this real?" Gaius asks._

 _Robin reads through the note for a third time, barely remembering to breathe. "Eight chances… Yes. It's real. It's from him," she whispers._

" _How can you tell?" Sumia asks._

" _I just know," Robin replies. Without taking her eyes off the note, she steps back to sit back on the stump she had occupied all evening by the fire. Gaius and Sumia glance at each other._

" _What does this mean?" Sumia asks._

" _It… means he's alive. He's out there, waiting for us to find him. He's okay," Robin manages to choke out before her throat catches and threatens to make her start crying. Stubbornly pushing back her tears, she hugs the note close to her chest and laughs at her own silly emotional reaction._

" _Robin…" Sumia pauses, not sure what she wants to say, and on the edge of being overcome by emotion herself. She decides to kneel down next to Robin's stump and hug the tactician around the chest from the side. Robin may be determined not to cry, but Sumia has no such conviction, and lets her tears of relief flow freely. After a few seconds, Robin returns the hug with one arm, wrapping it around Sumia's shoulder while using the other hand to keep the note close._

 _For his part, Gaius watches quietly with a smile as the woman he's grown to care for so much finally has her moment of release from guilt. It might be a long road yet to get Randall back, but at least for now, knowing that he's alive is enough._

* * *

The first thing every single one of us did when we arrived back in Themis was go straight to bed and sleep for a long-ass time. I can only remember one time in my life that I was more tired than I was when we finally got back to Themis, and that was the eighth run of the battle at Golgotha. Fortunately, without any fresh injuries coming home like usual, everyone can afford to get a bit of rest without worrying. I slept like a rock, and dreamed like one too.

When I wake up, I feel simultaneously like death and like a million dollars. Exhausted but for a good reason. I stumble my way out of my couch-bed and clumsily paw my tunic off, swapping it for a clean, dark grey one. I glance at Vasto's bed and find it empty. He must already be out with Kinba or something. Yawning, I wander into the hall and down the stairs, where I see a few of my comrades from the mission loitering in the foyer.

"Heyo! If it isn't Randall! Sleep well, Your Majesty?" Trevor teases. "It's not every day we're blessed with the company of those who sleep on the second floor, after all."

I roll my eyes. "I sleep on a couch. I'm just up there so Vasto has company at night. He does get so lonely, after all."

An Ylissean mage from West Sedgar province by the name of Llewelyn chuckles. "Yes, I suppose if they can't fit that dragon of his into the room with him, he would get rather lonesome, huh?" We all laugh at the black rider's expense.

"Well, good to see you three up and about," I hear behind me. I turn and see Pike coming to join us. "You gave Eileen and me quite a scare, Randall. We couldn't wake you to save our lives. You were breathing, sure, but gods above, you were out like a snuffed candle."

"I think I must have lost a fair amount of blood when you shook me around on your shoulder for hours on end while we made our way to the rendezvous point, Pike. Might've left me just a bit light-headed," I fire back.

"Fine, fine. Did you make any progress on that name for the organization? You seemed quite hell-bent on the idea before."

"Oh yeah, that's right. I'd like to hear this too," Trevor says.

"To tell the truth, I did give it some thought. The only answer that kept coming to mind seems kinda lame to me though," I say.

Pike claps my shoulder a little painfully. "Ah, come on, don't keep us in suspense. Let's hear it."

"Well, everyone here seems like they really do care for their homes and their people. No matter where everyone's from, they share a common goal: making life good again for those they care about. They love their countries. So I kept coming back to this word that meant a lot to my people some centuries ago, when our country was first forged in a revolution of our own: the Patriots. Those who stand up to tyranny and fight for their countrymen at all costs."

The three of them consider it for a moment. "The Patriots, huh?" Llewelyn repeats. "Not bad, actually. I think I like it."

"You know, it's better than I thought you'd come up with," Pike laughs. "I wouldn't mind taking on a name like that."

"What country are you talking about, though?" Trevor asks. "It doesn't sound familiar."

"A place far from here. Farther than anyone, even I myself, can reach."

Looks of skepticism and raised brows from all of them. "Well, in any case, I like the name. The Patriots it is! Least as far as I'm concerned," Pike says at last. The others voice similar approval.

"Glad you like it."

Oh God, am I starting to side with these guys for real?

"Ah, perfect timing. I was about to send someone for you," I hear from the top of the stairs behind me. I turn to see Duke Hadrian smiling down at me from the second floor landing. "Randall, I wonder if you wouldn't join me for just a moment. There's something I'd like to discuss with you."

I turn to the guys and shrug. They shrug in reply. Good talk, guys. I climb the stairs and follow Hadrian to Aventine's office. I should've known this was Aventine's doing.

"Ah, Randall. I'm glad to hear that the mission was a success. And from what I hear, you were instrumental more than once in the process of finding and killing that officer. The town is sure to be up in arms now, working to rid themselves of their oppressors, and it's thanks to you."

If I were hearing this from anyone else, I'd be flattered, but from Aventine, I'm more than a bit suspicious. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you it wasn't just me who won the day. Without the quick thinking of Pike, Eileen, and others, I'd have died for sure."

"Of course. But we've seen them in the field before. We know their capabilities. You were an unknown variable. Frankly, trusting our operatives' lives to you was a gamble from our perspective. But you proved to be more than competent, even in a mission that by all accounts was one of the most difficult we've executed, at least when one accounts for the crunched timeframe you had to work with. So, with that in mind, Duke Osprey and I agreed that a reward was in order."

"Truth be told, I had intended to give you something like this before you started going on missions. I never anticipated that you'd be so eager to begin helping our cause in earnest. I know full well how difficult it can be for healers to stay safe in the heat of battle, so I thought a protective article might be appropriate," Hadrian says. "As soon as I had an opportunity to get acquainted with you, and I assured myself of your character, I had my servants start taking steps to make this custom order a reality."

"Custom order?" I ask.

The duke opens a drawer in Aventine's desk and gets out a neatly folded thick square of midnight blue fabric. He holds it out to me, and I take it. It's surprisingly heavy. I unfold it, and it becomes clear what I've been given: a long coat. It's kind of hard to place the style exactly; it's not exactly a trench coat, like a detective coat, but it's not really a frock coat or a duster either. If I had to say anything, it reminds me a little of Hei's coat from Darker Than Black, only it's blue on the outside, such a dark blue you could almost mistake it for black in this dimly lit room. The interior is black, and markedly softer than the exterior, which is a tough but not uncomfortable canvas-feeling material. When I try it on, the coat ends at about knee-height. Whoever designed this coat must have gotten my measurements somehow, because it fits perfectly, neither limiting movement nor fitting too loosely.

Despite the impeccable fit, I am also aware this is by far the edgiest thing I have ever laid eyes on. If I were anywhere but in this world of fantasy and magic, I'd feel like an absolute dork in this.

"Not that this isn't a really nice coat, Duke Osprey, but… how is this a defensive article exactly? It's no thicker than my old healer's robes."

Hadrian raises a finger to point at the coat. "Ah, but that is no ordinary coat, Randall. Firstly, the outside is a specialized flame-retardant fabric developed for generations by textile artisans from the far-off lands of Valm. It obviously isn't completely fireproof — no such fabric exists — but I don't anticipate you burning that coat anytime soon. However, the real defensive wonder is between the inner and outer layers. For centuries, the warriors of Chon'sin have made use of lightweight, remarkably durable material known as lacquer. It may not be as strong as steel, but it is much more maneuverable, which I thought more appropriate for a battlefield healer such as yourself. Hundreds of small lacquer plates have been sewn into the coat, providing you extra protection against all but the worst attacks."

I experimentally give my own chest a whack with my fist. Under the canvas, I hear a faint _whap_ noise as my knuckle indirectly meets lacquer. "Wow. I… jeez, I don't know what to say."

"I hope this gift is a sign of the extent to which we value the contributions you've made to our cause," Aventine says. "I'm aware that we have often failed to see eye to eye on things, but perhaps this can be seen as proof that we at least are looking for your own interest, if nothing else."

Oh. I see. This coat is a bribe. Keep working with us, and you'll get nice imported fabrics and words of inordinate praise. Good to know.

Even so, it's not as though I haven't come to sympathize with their cause more in the past few days. The guys up top might give a slimy and sleazy vibe, but the ones who actually have their boots on the ground feel like real people worth fighting with. I felt like I was part of a team with them. Certainly better than feeling like a prisoner.

You know what? I'm keeping the coat. Bribe or not, if I'm going to be stuck with these guys for a while, I might as well try to look my best while I'm here.

And yes, I will admit I find the coat pretty cool.

I slip the coat off and drape it over my forearm. When I do so, though, I notice something white on the back of the coat that I didn't see before. I hold the coat up by the shoulders and take a better look at the back. Interwoven among the dark blue is a large white outline of a bird, wings spread out symmetrically, its legs together beneath it and its head facing left. Inside the outline are various white details, like a beak, eye, and feather patterns on the body and wings. The tips of the wings spread just past the shoulder blades of the coat, and the legs reach about mid-back length.

I peer around the coat at the slightly guilty-looking duke. "Hey, Duke Osprey. Is this by chance your family crest emblazoned on the back of this coat?"

He clears his throat. "As a matter of fact, it is."

"Now, I hope you'll forgive my presumption in saying so, but is the point of this crest being here to give your family a good image whenever I'm out doing stuff for the republican effort out in the field?" I ask.

He laughs nervously. "N-not necessarily! The goal of giving your coat that addition was to demonstrate that you're no mere mercenary, but rather a friend of the nobility! It will lend you clout among your peers, I'm sure! And if, perchance, your noble deeds should happen to foster a more favorable image of the Osprey clan in the minds of the people, all the better. After all, I do hope to remain an influential member of society even when the nobility as such is abolished," he explains.

So basically I'm a walking advertisement for Maribelle's family if I accept this coat. I take a moment to consider my options.

"Well, there are worse things to be than a sellout, I guess. I accept your 'gift,'" I say eventually.

These damn rich fops.

* * *

 _By now everyone has been made aware of the note. I decided to wait until morning to gather everyone around to read it to them rather than disturb their rest, so today's breakfast came with a bonus pleasant surprise for everyone. Reactions were predictably strong all around. I thought Cordelia was about to faint when she first heard we had confirmation he's alive. I'm sure Randall would be more than flattered to see her swooning over a note from him. Chrom's reaction was hard to read, but it's clear he's at least glad to hear about Randall's relative safety. Lissa would likely have been jumping for joy if she hadn't been called on shoulder-to-cry-on duty for Maribelle, who unsurprisingly was more than a little overwhelmed. The younger (or at least younger-looking) Shepherds, namely Nowi, Ricken, and Donnel, had no such restriction, and shared in a lively celebration complete with leaping and dragon fire and tossing poor Ricken around like a sack of potatoes. Gregor alarms everyone with a toast that, because he's the only one with alcohol, consists of him taking a mighty swig of his flask and shouting something in some Feroxi local language that no one, not even the khans, understands._

 _In all, it's been a long time since I've seen the group this motivated. All the fatigue of the long road and our heavy sorrows seems to lift from our shoulders, or at least lighten up._

 _For my part, I've been studying his note carefully in the wagon all morning. Yes, it's of course very good to know he's alive, but there's more to this. He wanted to communicate something more with this, I know it._

 _Firstly, there's the fact that he was allowed to send a message at all. His captors clearly aren't overly cruel, assuming this note was written in good faith. There's still a chance that this is a message he was forced to write by his kidnappers, though that seems unlikely. Why would he include a direct reference to our respawning power if the rest of his note wasn't legitimate communication? No, this is a message that he_ wanted _to send, and for some reason or other was actually allowed to. For that reason, when he says he's not with the Plegians, I believe him._

 _He says he wants us to go on with the original plan. That's what I had resolved to do, but the fact that he went this far to make sure that that's what we would actually do suggests a few things. For one thing, it implies that he thought I might deviate from our original plan to try and find him. It's… a little embarrassing that he thought I might drop everything to search him out. I guess I can admit to myself that I considered it. But it seems he and I are of the same mind on this: taking Ylisstol is still the first priority, even if without the ability to respawn it will of course be much harder._

 _But then there's this suggestion that if we stick to the plan, he's sure we'll meet soon. Why would he be sure of that? Is he being held in Ylisstol? Unlikely, but I suppose technically possible. Why would any kidnappers take him there though? It's crawling with Plegians, which means either he really was kidnapped by them, and they for some reason took him to the place they know we're going to be sieging, or he's being held by another group that, what, wanted him to join their local resistance? Why would they kidnap a member of the force that's already trying to liberate them… just to make him join a force to liberate them? It's not impossible that he's being held there by the Plegians to force a surrender with his throat at swordpoint, but in that case, he's really not in that much danger at all, since if such a thing were to happen, it would be easy to reset the run and try again. After all, they'd threaten to kill him right in front of me. But if that were the case, why would he suggest that I'll only have one attempt at retaking the city? If he knew that he would be used as a bargaining chip by the Plegians, surely he'd communicate that we actually_ will _have multiple runs at this if necessary. No, he's being held somewhere that he won't be able to access Ylisstol from. That's what he's saying._

 _So where the hell is he? He seems sure that if we follow the plan, we will meet soon. After we take Ylisstol, the next step is retaking major Ylissean provinces to win back our territory. Starting with…_

 _My heart skips a beat. I beeline for the door to the command wagon, leap out onto the ground, and run as fast as I can to the front of the caravan._

 _Chrom hears my approach and places a hand on Falchion at his side. "Robin, what is it? Are we under attack?"_

 _I wave a hand as I draw closer. Trying to catch my breath, I stutter, "No, no. But this note. I've been going over it. What he's really saying with it."_

" _There's a hidden message after all? What is it?" Chrom asks._

 _Finally having regained my breath, I stand up straight. "I know where Randall is being held."_

* * *

 **A/N: And just like that, we have the new longest chapter of the story. Another chapter with a lot of moving parts and even some new characters (as if we didn't have enough already), but I hope it came together well. Also an uncommon amount of sentimentality with this one, which was admittedly a ton of fun to write. There are so many characters from this game that I truly adore, and I want to explore as many of them in-depth as the narrative will let me get away with.  
**

 **Mixed Valence. NotTheArchitect. They're cool. They write. Check them out, or else face my judgment from afar. And here is your Mixed Valence out of context quote of the week: "I don't look at a bacterium and think 'oh god I'm gonna need a new pair of pants.'"**

 **Join the Discord! discord. gg/ 3mdunvc**

 **As always, comments and critiques are welcome! See you next time!**


	35. Ch 35: Lightly Breaded Insults

**Birth and Re-Death**

 **Chapter 35: Lightly Breaded Insults [Robin]**

"Loving Naga, emissary of the gods, I beseech you on behalf of your people. Long have we toiled, in war and in poverty, in despair and in grief. But in your grace we find hope of a bright tomorrow. Hope that binds us together and unites us in purpose. In you we place our faith. Faith that our little light of hope, no matter how dim it may seem in the face of such darkness, will yet be able to light our path. Though the way forward leaves us no choice but to fight and kill our enemies, we do so knowing that it is right that we should defend our homes. And so we plead with you, that our swords may not falter, that our arrows may strike true, that our shields will not shatter. And by your blessing, we may create a land of peace for the living, and inherit peace everlasting for the dead. In the name of Naga, we so pray."

Libra bows his head, and the rest of us follow suit. Personally I'm not sure about putting our fate in the hands of any goddess, or emissary of the gods, or whatever else have you. I'll be acting from tomorrow on as though every god in the sky is bent against us, because I have no proof they aren't. I'll be placing my trust in my plan and in the skill of the Shepherds. Even so, I don't mind bowing my head with those that this stuff matters for.

Tharja seems not to think similarly. She nudges my side with her elbow, and when I turn my head slightly to look at her, she's clearly holding back derisive laughter. I suppose she's hoping that since I'm apparently former Grimleal, same as her, I'll join her in poking fun at the Nagalei. I don't have any interest in doing so, though.

From here, I can see the back of Sumia's head over the shoulders of the others, sitting near the front of the group. I can tell from this distance that she's praying fervently. Out of everyone in the Shepherds, I think she's probably among the most justified in wanting to appeal to the gods. She watched her own childhood home, a place that was meant to be idyllic and safe from all harm, get invaded and partially torched by the Plegians, all because of an idiotic mistake that had the worst possible consequences. I won't begrudge her the desire to appeal to whatever higher power she likes, regardless of my own thoughts. I make this clear to Tharja by frowning and staring straight ahead. After a moment out of the corner of my eye I see her quietly emulate me.

The woman might be alarmingly fixated on me, but at least it makes her compliant.

It's interesting to see which Shepherds seem to take this more seriously than others. Some, like Sumia, Maribelle, Chrom, and Stahl, seem to be engaged in the prayer exercise quite thoroughly. Others, even among the Ylisseans like Gaius, Vaike, and Sully, seem like they can't wait for it to be over, constantly glancing around and occasionally making eye contact with each other. Those of us who aren't Ylissean or Nagalei in general were invited to come anyway, but few did. I'm sitting in because I'm done with prep work for tonight. I think Tharja only came because I did.

The other standout members of this mini-congregation are the trio of Lissa, Emmeryn, and Frederick, sitting together in the back, not far from me and Tharja. At first, Emmeryn seemed not to understand what was going on, but after a minute or so, adorably, she started imitating her sister and Frederick on either side of her. Even now she sits with her eyes closed and her head bowed, just like her little sister and her knight, though occasionally I see her open one eye and peek at the others to make sure that's still what she's supposed to be doing. I might be channeling my inner Randall a bit when I think to myself that that's the cutest shit I've ever seen.

Libra offers up a few more prayers for our safety, for the safeguarding of the people still left in the capital, for Randall's safe return, and for a swift end to the war. It's by far the longest I've ever heard Libra speak for. Even before Randall was taken, I didn't have many chances to speak with him, but since Randall's kidnapping, he's become a much more private person. I'm led to understand that he spends the bulk of his time in solitary prayer, I assume for Randall's sake. I know that he and Randall had grown really close, so I can tell it's been hard for him too.

After a while, the prayer service ends, and the Shepherds disperse to their various next items on their list. For my part, I've barely stood up before I find Libra standing in front of me.

"Oh, Libra. Did you need something?" I ask.

"No, not at all. I just wanted to thank you and Tharja for coming to my little impromptu service. I know that neither of you are Nagalei, but it means a great deal to me that you would pray in solidarity with us nonetheless," he replies with a gentle smile.

I return the smile. "I'm happy to. Like you said, we have to be united in purpose if we want to stand a chance, right?"

He nods. "Yes. I have prayed on this daily since the ambush we endured at the Anchorage estate. I am sure beyond all doubt that this battle will test us more than any other. But no matter the cost, so long as our cause is just, I know too that we will prevail."

Well, I'm glad one of us is confident, at least. "This battle is going to be long, Libra. I'll be counting on you to help keep people's spirits up, because I have a feeling we're going to need it."

"Of course. I will do my utmost."

* * *

"Robin, are you sure about this plan? It sounds like it will make this battle into a grueling affair," Chrom says from across the war table.

"I'm certain. If the Plegians know that we're coming, and by all accounts we must assume that they do, we need a tactic that doesn't rely on surprise in the least. I think I can anticipate their strategy. They will want us to invade straightaway. They've had weeks to fortify their internal defenses and familiarize themselves with the city. Their grip on the city from the inside is likely ironclad. They want to force us to come to them, just like they had to come to us in Anchorage. That's why we cannot allow that to happen."

"What of the civilians still inside the city?" Chrom asks.

I hesitate. This isn't easy to talk about so frankly, but he's the captain and he deserves to know my honest thoughts. "Anyone who didn't manage to escape before the Plegian takeover of the city was complete is already in a terrible position. Frankly, I wouldn't be surprised if the enemy takes civilians hostage and holds them at swordpoint to force us to comply with them. We _cannot_ allow such displays to intimidate us, if they should happen. As long as we control the gates and the supply lines, time is on our side, and they will know that."

Chrom bows his head as I speak. "So I should anticipate having to watch my people butchered in front of me? Is there nothing we can do?"

"If a solution comes about, by all means I'll use it to its fullest extent. But right now we only have one active flier, and I'm not comfortable sending Sumia into the city to assist with any further evacuations without someone watching her back. The safety of the Shepherds is the first priority. That's why this siege is the only viable strategy as things stand now. Ideally we could have snuck into the city, but leaked communications have forced us to this. I don't like it either, but I'd much rather just have to protect the door than invade the city."

He interlocks his fingers behind his neck, pulling his head farther down. "I know you're right. You've always been right." His arms drop to his sides as he stands up. "I'm gonna try and get some sleep. We've got a long ordeal ahead of us."

"Yeah, we do."

I sit back in my chair as Chrom leaves the wagon. Chrom's right. This is borderline barbaric. Or at least it could be. Maybe whoever's in charge in the city will see the position their soldiers are in and call for surrender. Sure would be nice. In any case, in the absence of the respawn power, it's the only option that maximizes the chance that no Shepherds will come to any harm.

I wonder how many of the Shepherds are aware of what awaits us. According to every tactical text and historical account I've gotten my hands on, sieges can and usually do take weeks, even months, to come to an end. We have to prove that our will is stronger than the enemy's.

To that end, I'm keeping the information about Randall's whereabouts under wraps for now. It'll be hard enough for me to focus on the battle at hand, knowing (or at least having a really strong idea) where he is, but if the Shepherds as a whole had to exercise the patience to carry this siege through to the end while knowing where he's being held, I think we might fall apart. I've told Chrom, because someone has to know, and that someone has to be accountable enough to keep me in check in case _I_ ever try to duck out of the siege and make a detour to Themis.

I sigh. This is going to be a long few weeks.

* * *

 _I decide to pay Emm a visit before I go to bed. It's not likely I'll have another chance to talk to her for a while yet, with this whole siege idea, so I want to capitalize on the chance while I have it. I've already been neglecting her far too much lately. As her brother, I should make more of an effort._

 _When I enter the medical cart, where Emm still stays even though she probably technically doesn't have to now, I'm a bit surprised not to see Lissa here. Maybe she went to bed early to prepare for tomorrow. In any case, it seems both Frederick and Emm have gone to sleep already._

 _I consider leaving, but instead decide to stay for just a bit. I sit on a crate near Emm's bedroll and watch her sleep._

 _She looks so much smaller when she sleeps. It's a little hard to believe this vulnerable, almost frail woman is the same person I spent my whole life looking up to. She always seemed larger than life somehow back then, but now, she's just… there._

" _We're going to get it back, Emm. We're going to take our home back, and when we do, this war can end. We'll make good on the sacrifice you made. Please believe in us just a little longer," I whisper to her. Somehow, saying it to her makes it feel more real._

" _Milady, I'm sorry I kept you wa– waaah!" I hear from the entrance to the wagon, followed by a clattering of dishware. Maribelle's head pokes through the doorway. "Milord, you startled me!"_

 _All the sudden noise stirs Emm from her sleep. "Muuh?" she mumbles as she blinks her bleary eyes and tries to wake up._

 _Seeing Maribelle looking so flustered draws a smile out of me. "Sorry about that, Maribelle. I just wanted to pay Emm a little visit before we begin the attack tomorrow."_

 _Maribelle calms down quickly, and enters the wagon with a tea set on a tray in hand. "Lissa went to bed some time ago. I told her I would take care of Lady Emmeryn for the evening. Poor Lissa has been working herself to the bone lately, you know. But while I was off getting the tea kettle prepared, it seems Lady Emmeryn went to sleep. She must be exhausted too."_

" _Chrom?" Emm asks, looking up at me from her bedroll._

" _Hey there, Emm. Just came to say good night," I say, smiling down at her._

 _She gives a small smile in return. "Good night, Chrom." Without another word, she buries her face back in her pillow._

 _I look at Maribelle, who looks back at me in equal bewilderment. We both snort, but do our best not to laugh aloud, for fear of stirring her._

" _She must need the rest," Maribelle says as she sits on a crate next to mine._

" _I guess so." Amazing that despite everything that's happened, being this near to her still drives my heart rate up._

" _Well, I went to the trouble to get a kettle ready and acquire two cups. Would you care for some tea, milord?" Maribelle asks, already getting ready to pour the water._

" _I could never refuse a request for tea with you," I reply, trying to keep my nerves in check._

" _You flatter me, milord." She hands me a cup, mercifully warm on this cold night, and I take a sip. I don't know my teas very well, but this is a gentle brew and it warms my chest pleasantly._

" _Thank you, Maribelle. For the tea, and for looking after my sisters. I can always rest easy when it comes to Lissa, knowing that she has a friend like you keeping an eye on her."_

" _Gracious, it's the least I can do! You have the weight of the whole continent on your shoulders, milord. Anything I can do to lessen that load is not only my duty, but my joy to do for you," Maribelle says earnestly._

 _The way she smiles after she says that, I can tell she meant every word. Gods, she's so kind I can feel gratitude welling up in my throat. "I don't…" Somehow I get the feeling that if I tell her how I feel, that I don't deserve this kindness, it'll only result in a scolding. "Thank you, Maribelle. I don't know what we would do without you."_

 _She huffs. "I'm sure you'd get on just fine, milord. I've seen your prowess on the battlefield time and again, and you have never let our people down."_

" _I don't just mean battle. I can count on all the Shepherds to carry the day on the battlefield. I mean more… generally. You've always been there for my family. You make me feel safe, in a way that swords and lances and even our allies just… don't." Oh gods, I've said too much. "I-I mean, knowing that you've always been a friend to Lissa, it's just… nice." I get really interested in looking at my tea suddenly._

" _Well, it's good to know that my efforts don't go unappreciated. Honestly, you know how I adore Lissa, but there are times where she takes for granted how much worrying I do on her behalf. Do you know I've already started prematurely greying for fear of that girl's safety?" She sets down her cup and holds one of her hair coils out toward me. "Look at this! I'm twenty!_ Twenty! _And you can see the grey in my hair!" Remembering herself, she coughs embarrassedly and lowers her volume. "Ah, my apologies for my outburst, milord."_

 _I can't help but laugh a little. "No worries, Maribelle. I'm glad you feel comfortable enough around me to talk that way. You've never let the fact that I'm a prince stop you from just being… Maribelle. Lets me forget everything on my mind, just for a moment."_

" _Well," she clears her throat, "I'm glad it doesn't seem to offend you. But even so, a certain degree of decorum should still be observed."_

" _Maribelle, you know me well enough to know that decorum is a low priority for me. I like you best when you let yourself relax. You don't need to stress yourself for my benefit."_

 _It seems I've left her at a bit of a loss for words. "I… Thank you, milord."_

" _Please, you call my sister by her name. I don't see why you can't call me by mine." I hope I'm not pushing things too far, but it's been so long since Maribelle and I last had a chance to talk. I don't want to waste this opportunity._

" _I… suppose if you insist, I'm in no position to disagree. Thank you, Chrom."_

 _I internally breathe a sigh of relief. "Well, we're going to have a long battle ahead of us. We should get our rest while we can."_

" _Agreed. Let's retire for the evening."_

* * *

 _Frederick lies quietly on his bedroll, choosing to feign sleep rather than interrupt Prince Chrom in his conversation with Lady Maribelle. By Frederick's estimation, it seems obvious to him that Chrom must feel strongly toward Maribelle, and he quickly comes to feel as though he is intruding on their moment. However, he is essentially trapped now, as to interrupt the conversation now would be worse than simply pretending to sleep and enduring the feeling of awkwardness. He does his best not to listen to what's being said, but his sharp sense of hearing betrays him, and he doesn't miss a thing._

 _Even so, as he listens to his liege's words, his mind drifts elsewhere. In Chrom's requests, he hears a great deal of the same things that Exalt Emmeryn used to tell him. She would encourage him to 'lighten up,' to drop the guise of the loyal knight and just enjoy her company. She had wanted to interact with him not as a ruler and her servant, but as companions. If only he had allowed himself to do so back when he had the chance._

 _Amid the sound of stuttered conversation and clattering drinkware, he resolves to himself that from here on, he will honor Emmeryn's request, even if she no longer remembers making it._

* * *

The plan is set. Three major gates into the city – south, west, and east – and we have a plan to block all of them. Six major farming complexes around the city that supply different essential food items to the city population, all of which are currently occupied by Plegian soldiers. We have a plan to cut each of them off from the city interior. Three major roads into the city – south, west, and east – each of which potentially receives supply runs from Plegian occupiers moving between major cities. We have a plan to waylay any Plegian caravans on the roads before they reach the city gates and box us in.

Even if the Plegians expect these tactics, there's really nothing they can do that doesn't benefit us more than it benefits them. They could rush out of the city to try to clash with us before we box them in, but I have greater confidence in the Ylissean-Feroxi alliance's strength than the Plegians'. We may be tired, but we are also angry, and we are fighting for what we know is right. Meanwhile, by all accounts the Plegians are demoralized, paranoid, and mentally exhausted already. No matter the size of the occupying force, if they are forced to funnel themselves through the city gates, their numbers won't matter, just like they didn't in Anchorage.

The truth is that they have no choice but to either attempt to escape, which of course would just make retaking the city easier for us, or to hunker down and hope that some outside force will save them before they starve. I anticipate the latter and am planning for it. Once we've reoccupied the farming complexes, we'll have access to their food storehouses, and feeding the Shepherds and the Feroxi should be easier. We'll outlast them. And when the Plegians finally crack, and starvation finally forces them into an ultimatum, we will impose an unconditional surrender on them in exchange for food and the right to leave. That is when we will retake Ylisstol.

The first step is blocking the gates. To that end, the Feroxi soldiers have been hard at work constructing barricades that will block any infantry from advancing out of the city. Meanwhile, Virion will organize a set of counter-projectile divisions that will focus on taking out any archers or mages that attempt to fire over the barricades from the top of the walls. He might be a bumbling fool when it comes to keeping secret information in the right hands, but I am at least confident in his skill behind the bow.

My desire to keep an eye on as many of the Shepherds as possible informed my decision to keep most of them on the south side of the city with me. The only Shepherds guarding the other gates are Anna and Gregor to the west and Kellam and Miriel to the east. I want at least one Shepherd with a healing staff with every wing of the siege party, and I want each of those healers to have someone watching their back. Basilio and Flavia are each taking a gate to oversee as well, leaving the main gate to me for oversight. As for the south gate, I plan to leave Chrom, Lissa, and Virion in charge here while I join the raiding parties in ridding the farm complexes of the Plegian troops.

There are three raiding parties, each tasked with taking down two complexes. To my own group, I've assigned Donnel, Cordelia, and Maribelle. The remaining Shepherds are split among the other two parties, and each is bolstered by about a dozen Feroxi soldiers as well.

The siege begins on the first of January. We gather everyone, Feroxi and Ylissean alike, to stand together, some quarter mile south of the city. I stand before the collective might of our alliance in the wee hours of the morning, with Chrom on my left and Basilio and Flavia on either side of us. Everyone has already organized themselves into their respective groups, ready to move the moment we give the order. The barricades have been loaded onto wagons, prepped for placement when they get to the gates. Everything is set.

"Hoo," Chrom exhales next to me. He glances my way. "Ready?"

"Yeah. Let's get this started."

"Everyone!" Chrom shouts to the group. "The time has come to strike back at those who have invaded our home! Whether you are Ylissean, Feroxi, or neither, it doesn't matter; we stand together against this force that has demonstrated time and again that they hold neither the lives nor the homes of others to be sacred. Any army that achieves its ends via the slaughter and subjugation of civilians is an army fighting for evil. Though our history is long and varied, and often unpleasant to recall, we can take solace in the fact that on _this day_ , it is _we_ who are fighting on the side of justice! We know that it is not by continuing the cycle of hatred that we will regain peace. We will sever the cycle here and now by driving the Plegians back to their homeland, where their king will answer for his crimes, against both his own people and ours. We know, as my sister Emmeryn knew, that the Plegians desire an end to this war as well, but for as long as they are compelled to answer to King Gangrel, that end will never come."

He takes a long breath. "This siege will be long. It will be difficult. But it will be worth it, because this will be the beginning of the end for those who seek to rule by fear. Here, now, is where this war can finally start to end. This is the start of our reclamation!"

His cry is met with thunderous cheers, weapons beaten on chests and against shields, a single cacophonous roar of assent. If I didn't know that noise was on our side, it would be pants-shittingly terrifying. Chrom, Flavia, and Basilio each raise a weapon high in the air and signal for their respective groups to follow them. The khans break off toward each side of the city, while Chrom's force remains centered, advancing up the field toward the grand south gate. Meanwhile, I gather with the farming complex raiding parties one last time before we make our move.

"Alright everyone, I want this done quickly, but more importantly, done safely. Be smart about the way you approach these complexes. According to our most recent scout reports, they aren't as well-guarded as the inside of the city, but that's no reason to be incautious. We're watching each others' backs the whole way, got it?" I say.

Various 'right's and 'got it's and other expressions of understanding. That'll have to do. The stress of letting any Shepherds out of my sight continues to wear on me, but there's no way this can work if I just sit here babysitting everyone in a big group. I have to trust everyone to take care of themselves.

"Then let's get to it. Go, go!"

The three raiding parties separate, and my group heads toward the southeast side of the city exterior to start our takeover of the farms. It's time for the siege to begin.

One of our targets is more easterly, the other more southerly, so we take the former first. The farming complexes are essentially centralized farm towns located about two miles from the city walls, surrounded on all sides by farmland, stretching far into the countryside beyond. Little villages dot the country farther out, but the grain storehouses are all in the central towns, which means they're the most important places to secure.

We stop maybe an eighth of a mile outside of town. Even though we can clearly make out the buildings of the town from this distance, it isn't immediately apparent how well-guarded the town or the grain storehouse in particular is. The building sticks out, though, a massive wooden structure near the edge of town that holds the yields of all the fields' crops all winter long.

"Alright everyone, be on your guard. This might be an ambush. There's no way they'd leave their food totally unattended," I say, readying my Levin sword and gesturing for Donnel and Cordelia to lead us into town. We approach slowly, keeping an eye on every corner and alley as we approach the storehouse, waiting for any sign of movement from the enemy. Strangely, though, even as we arrive at the doors themselves, there isn't a peep from the Plegians. I know the Ylissean townsfolk must be shut indoors, but that doesn't explain the total silence out here.

A couple Feroxi position themselves to open the door on my signal. "Be ready for anything. There's something going on here," I say. Everyone nods and holds their weapons at the ready.

I gesture with my hand, and the Feroxi throw the doors open. Donnel, Cordelia, the other Feroxi and I charge inside, but quickly stop short. We all stand in silence for a couple seconds.

"Do we have the wrong building?" someone asks.

"No, this is right," Donnel replies. "I know a grain storehouse, and this is it. But I think we might'a been played."

I realize with a sinking heart that he's right. I didn't think the Plegians would have time for such a major operation, but it seems they've taken every grain of wheat from the storehouse and moved them somewhere else. The storehouse is totally empty.

"Son of a bitch…" If we can't prevent the Plegians from getting food, this is going to get a lot harder. "Let's make sure it's not just this one. We're hitting the southern complex."

My heart is pounding with dread as we make our way southwest across the fields, empty now from the finished harvest. No one says a thing while we proceed from one town to the other.

We rush into town, not nearly as cautious this time about the possibility of an ambush. Not that we had any reason to worry; this town is as quiet at the last. When we bust into the storehouse, my fears are confirmed. Nothing.

Well, almost nothing. A single loaf of bread sits on the floor in the middle of the room. Tacked to the loaf is a note. I pick up the bread, unsurprisingly rock-hard with staleness, pick the note from the bread, and read the message.

"Have a nice winter, Shepherds."

I crumple the note in my hand and throw the loaf into the corner in frustration. "We have to get back to the city, now," I command.

We make haste back to the southern group, who by now have set up most of their barricades and are waiting on further orders or a response from the Plegians. As we approach, Chrom notices us and hustles over to meet us.

"Robin, what's happened? Are the Plegians in the farming towns already taken care of?" he asks.

"No. They had time to move all the grain and other food inside the city walls before we arrived. We're in deep shit, Chrom," I say through gritted teeth. I can't believe I let myself get outsmarted like this! I underestimated the enemy, and now they have the clear upper hand.

"What happens now?" Chrom asks, clearly doing his best not to look worried.

"Well, I guess the plan hasn't much changed. We just have a much, much longer fight ahead of us, I'm afraid," I reply. "We still control the gates at this rate, we're just going to have a harder time starving them out. We're also going to have hungry farmers coming to us in fairly short order, I'm sure, begging us to liberate the food stores inside the city. It was a good move on their part, but we aren't doomed just yet. We just have to prove that we can outlast them."

"Well, what are _we_ going to do for food? We were kind of counting on those storehouses, weren't we?"

"We'll have to set up our own supply lines, most likely. Hopefully Plegian supply caravans will be coming through periodically and we can waylay them. We'll want to set aside some skilled hunters to keep up our supply of meat. And we need to consult someone with knowledge on farming about whether anything can grow during the winter months. We just have to get creative with our solutions." As I say this, and a new plan starts to take shape in my head, my breathing slowly evens out. "Yes. We're not in crisis just yet. It's fine."

As I say this, a lone horn blast cuts through the air from the top of the wall above the south gate, drawing nearly everyone's attention. Slowly, a pair of giant metal shields come into view, obscuring whoever might be standing behind them.

"Attention, Shepherds of Ylisse! My name is Campari Leone, and I will speak with you now. Do I have the privilege of addressing Chrom, leader of the Shepherds?" a voice booms from behind the greatshields.

Chrom looks at me for advice. I shrug, then nod. He looks back in the general's direction. "Yes, you do."

"Excellent. Based on what my lookouts report, I gather that you have sent groups out to the farming towns and seen the state of things outside the city walls. Correct?"

"Yes."

"Then I trust you have come to realize what the situation is. We have moved all the food supplies for the winter inside the city walls to a secure location. Your siege will not be able to prevent us from being well stocked for the entire winter. If you wish to wait us out, you will be waiting a very, very long time." Despite the meaning behind his words, I don't hear any malice to the general's tone. It's as if he's giving a report rather than gloating.

Campari goes on. "That's not all. Before you arrived, I sent word to the surrounding cities and provinces, requesting aid from the soldiers stationed in every major city in the halidom. In a matter of weeks, you will be descended on from every side by my comrades occupying the rest of your cities. And unlike us, safe behind the walls of the capital, you are out in the open out there. Even if you started working right now, there would not be enough time to adequately prepare for the onslaught that is coming."

My gut seizes into a tight, painful knot. If what he's saying is true, we really are in a crisis.

"Soon, you will face an attack on two sides. From the invaders on the outside, and the well-fed and well-rested soldiers on the inside. You thought that you were surrounding us, but in point of fact, it is your army that is surrounded. So, allow me to tell you what options you have at this point, and what the results of choosing those options will be.

"Firstly, you could try invading us actively right now. We are heavily fortified in here, and our forces outnumber yours. Further, we have a group of about one hundred Ylissean civilians held captive inside the city, ready to be put to death at the first sign of invasion from you. You might prevail, but it matters not, because it will come at the price of a huge loss of Ylissean life, both military and civilian. You will not be adequately prepared to face the forces that are coming from the outside.

"Second, you could carry on with your starvation tactic and wait for months on end while we eat from the fruits of your villagers' labors. Meanwhile, the farmers outside the city will either starve over the winter or work themselves to the bone in a futile attempt to plant more crops over these cold and unforgiving months. And then, yourselves hungry and fatigued, you will face an attack on both sides from refreshed and well-rested soldiers. You will be overrun and killed, and you will have gained nothing.

"Finally, you may choose to surrender. If you do this, my soldiers will escort you into the city. You will be disarmed and detained, but for the time being, none of you will be killed. You and the farmers both will be fed, and you will be sent either across the border to Plegia to face King Gangrel's judgment or back to Regna Ferox, where no further punitive action will await you. I say this to the Feroxi members of your alliance: your participation in this war is incidental, the result of an informal agreement between yourselves and the Ylisseans, and I would not see you unduly punished for that. I cannot promise that you Shepherds will all necessarily survive this process, as I am sure that there are those among you that His Highness would see executed. But it will not be by my men's hands, and it will not be here. I recommend this option. In fact, I recommend it so strongly that I do not even demand that you choose it right away. You may elect to change your mind and surrender at any point between now and your deaths, and I will ensure that my men honor it."

Chrom looks at me desperately, hoping I'll have an answer. My fists ball at my sides. Damnit. Damnit, damnit, damnit! He's much smarter than I gave him credit for. He's demoralizing us, revitalizing the spirit of his own troops, and driving a stake between us and the Feroxi, all in one move. It was a mistake to come here. We should never have come here. Why did I think we could handle something like this?

 _If you can carry out the plan, I'm sure that our paths will cross soon enough._

No. I'm not giving up. Randall said he has faith in us that we can do this. I have to keep that same faith alive, even if it seems like a hopeless situation. There's a way out. There's always a way out. I just have to figure it out. I glare at Chrom and shake my head firmly from side to side.

He looks almost relieved, and matches my look of determination. "General Campari! Your offer of mercy is undoubtedly both sincere and well-intentioned. But we will be turning it down. You can sit inside my home's walls for now if you like, but someday soon, we will be coming for you!"

Long seconds of silence pass before Campari speaks again. "Well, I can't say I didn't expect that. And as I said, the offer is always open. Until we meet again, Prince Chrom." The greatshields retreat, and a haunting silence fills the chilly January air.

Chrom looks at me again. "You do have a plan, right?"

I have no choice but to give him a guilty smile. "Not yet, no."

His face blanches. "O-oh. I see."

"But surrender is not and never can be an option. We can't let Ylisse down."

He swallows. "Right. Well, let's meet with the khans and see what we have."

* * *

" _Captain Venir, sir! We've got a problem," the rookie lancer tells his captain breathlessly, slamming the door behind him and leaning against it to keep it shut._

" _I heard the commotion. What the hell is going on out there?" the captain demands. "This was supposed to be a quiet assignment!"_

 _The lancer gulps. "Well, uh, it seems that the townsfolk have… turned violent, sir. There's a group out there stirring them up, and now we've got our hands full keeping the civilians down. And they – the group I was talking about, I mean – they got a wyvern." He glances toward the window nervously, as if the mention of the beast alone might summon it._

 _Venir blanches. "You don't mean… The knight in black? Why on earth would he come here?"_

" _I don't know, sir! What do we do?" the soldier pleads._

" _Well, we have to get out of here! What's the quickest way out of town?" Venir asks, already frantically grabbing whatever supplies he can scrounge up and stuffing them into a canvas sack._

" _The woods to the northwest are probably our best bet, but I – waah!" the lancer cries in alarm as the wood of the door decays behind him and buckles under his weight, causing him to topple backwards through the doorway. A short cry and a fleshy_ thwack _later, the lancer falls silent._

 _Before the captain can do more than draw his sword, four people enter his quarters, each with a weapon in hand. A man in plate armor armed with a lance enters first, followed by a muscular man with an axe, a slight woman with a bow, and finally a bearded man in a long, dark blue jacket holding a black tome._

 _The bearded man speaks first. "I was right! Wood's organic, so dark magic can decay it like any other living thing. How about that shit?" Though his words and his tone suggest levity, the look of intensity in his eyes, in all of their eyes, belies their intentions. The man looks at Venir. "You're Captain Venir, right?" He glances at the canvas sack hastily packed on the table next to the captain. "Going somewhere, boss?"_

 _Venir opens his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing is forthcoming. What could he possibly say?_

" _You know, I'm no fan of you occupiers in general, but I really prefer the kind of leader who, you know, leads? I've fought a fair number of Plegians in my time, and I have to admit, their officers are usually pretty good about sticking by their men. But then there's you. The whole time we've been taking the fight to your men, you've been camped out up here. And then, on top of that, when we finally come to check up on you, we find you like this. Packed up and ready to bail on your own subordinates." He grimaces and says his next sentence with extra venom. "You're lower than a bastard."_

" _What do you think? Should we take him out to the townsfolk, let them sort him out?" the man with the axe asks. Venir's stomach turns to ice in his gut._

 _The bearded man considers. "No, I'd prefer if our revolution could avoid becoming quite so… mob justice-y. Where I came from, the famous revolution that went down that path didn't end in a happy place." He takes another moment to work out his solution. "Tell ya what. This is your post, so you get one chance to defend it. First shot's a freebie. Your chances aren't great, but they're better than your chance of running away. How about it?"_

 _Backed both physically and psychologically into a corner, Venir rapidly examines each of the four opponents facing him down. He could try to take the archer, but she's standing next to that man hefting that giant axe, which doesn't bode well for him even if he gets a hit off on the girl. The man in the plate armor isn't an option either. If he rushes the bearded man, who stands closest to the door, he might have a chance of getting out of the room without engaging the others. The archer would be too close to get a shot off, and this mage doesn't look too well armored. He's even standing with a hand behind his back, looking like he doesn't expect an attack. Yes, that seems to be the only way out. As gracious as this man may have been to offer a sporting chance, if Venir wants to survive he cannot give the same courtesy._

 _He charges, sword raised. If the others are moving, he doesn't see it; his sight is focused on the mage and the door behind him alone. He brings the blade down over the mage's head, but before it connects his opponent raises the arm that had been hidden, revealing an until-now concealed staff. The sword hits the shaft with a_ clang _and slides down, but Venir is an adaptable fighter; he'll simply turn this into a slice on the mage's shoulder. But even the muted blow he should have won doesn't seem to connect. The blade bounces off his coat harmlessly, leaving Venir off-balance and stopping his forward momentum entirely._

" _Nice try, slugger," the bearded man says as he raises his arm out of the captain's sight, and the last thing Venir registers is a sharp and sudden pain to the back of his head. And then, nothing._

* * *

"Oh, you know what I just remembered?" Gaius says, looking at the sun as it wanes in the western sky. "It was actually my birthday today. With all the craziness we've had around here, I totally spaced on it until now."

Lissa gasps in shock, drawing my attention from the text on agricultural methods that I've been frantically poring over. "Oh my gods, it _is_ your birthday, isn't it? Aah, I'm sorry, Gaius! I'm usually so good about remembering birthdays."

Gaius laughs. "You know, I think this once, I can let it slide. We've had our fair share of craziness going on the past day and a half."

Sumia chimes in, sounding just as guilty as Lissa. "But you gotta let us do something for you! I know it won't be with everyone, since a bunch of folks are on watch at the barricades, and the rest of us still need to stay on alert and all, but we can't let the day go by just like any other!"

Gaius looks a little embarrassed. "C'mon, Sumia, it's no big deal. I've never really made a big deal of it before, so why start now?"

Sumia stumbles over her thoughts for a moment, starting and stopping sentences several times before she grasps firmly onto a thought. "Well… maybe that's exactly why. If you've never had a chance to celebrate it before, you deserve a chance to make up for lost birthdays, even if we're in the middle of a siege."

"Well… uh…" I've never seen Gaius this caught off-guard before. "I guess if you're really hell-bent on the idea, I won't be the one to stop you." He looks pleased, but tentatively so.

Sumia turns to me. "Robin, I know that we're supposed to be rationing our food supplies as carefully as we can, but can we use just enough flour, sugar, butter, and fruit to make up a small pie for Gaius? I just know he'd love it!"

I weigh the pros and cons in my head. The cons are obvious. We don't have a lot of supplies to begin with, let alone enough to be goofing off with any of them on anything we don't strictly need. Spending any of those resources on such a blatant luxury isn't an efficient use of food. We must be preservation-minded.

But then I reconsider. I try to think like he would. With the long and almost certainly grueling siege ahead of us, I need to be keeping morale in mind. Something like this, even if it was just a small gesture, might be what this group needs to keep their minds on one another and the cause we're fighting for, rather than how difficult this is going to be.

I sigh. "Alright. But keep it small. And Sumia, please don't take offense, but I want someone with you as you're preparing it. We don't need any mishaps with the baking rendering valuable ingredients useless."

She hangs her head for a split second, but promptly perks back up when Gaius puts a hand on her shoulder. "Lemme help you out, Sumia. Robin might not have a lot of tact, but she's got a point. It'll be more fun for me if you let me help ya." He shoots me a covert wink for good measure so I know he doesn't mean it personally, but he's right; I probably could've worded that better.

"Well, when you put it like that, that does sound more fun… Okay!" Sumia replies, giving perhaps the first genuine smile I've seen on anyone's face since before the siege started yesterday morning.

And so, despite the general air of seriousness and tension, there exists a two-person-wide pocket of positive energy in the southern campsite as day turns to night. Every once in a while, a quiet giggle, usually from Sumia, floats over on the chilly breeze and warms our spirits, just for a moment. I feel like I made the right call.

After a while, it's time for the changing of shifts. With the exception of the overseers who constantly man the same post when they're not at rest, we have three rotations of approximately eight hours: one shift at the barricades, one shift patrolling the roads outside of the city and watching for any reinforcements from the outside, and one shift of sleep. This keeps everyone at least a little fresh and hopefully is familiarizing all the non-locals with the terrain.

It's about to be my turn for a sleep shift. For once, I think I'm actually going to be able to sleep decently. I made some progress on researching wintertime agriculture, and depending on what Kellam, Miriel, and Donnel can tell me, I might have a method in mind to keep ourselves fed. Further, the Plegians inside the city haven't made a move yet, suggesting they intend to wait on reinforcements, which there have been no reports of as yet. The worry does gnaw at the back of my mind constantly, but compared to the amount of things I've been worrying about recently, this isn't so bad. I have to keep positive, or I'll never last.

The next shift comes in from their patrol route, so that relieves me of my post officially. I decide not to waste any time getting to bed, shivering briefly in the growing night as I shuffle over to my tent. Before I get there, though, I'm held up maybe ten feet away by Gaius' voice calling over to me.

"Hey Bubbles. C'mere for a sec." He and Sumia are walking in my direction from the fire.

I walk to meet them halfway. "What's up? Did it go well?"

Gaius holds out his hands. "You tell me. First bite's for you. Well, second, but whatever. I tried." In his hands is perhaps the smallest pie I've ever seen, no more than three or four inches across. A bite is indeed missing. "Sumia said she wanted to share with you before she has any herself."

"You sure you two don't want to have it all? There isn't exactly much to go around," I say.

"Well, you did tell us to go easy on using valuable ingredients, after all," Gaius replies. "Besides, what good's a pie without sharing it with your pals? Okay, actually scratch that, pie is fantastic even if you have it alone. But all the same, lemme know what you think." He presses the little pie into my hands.

"Yeah, go on, Robin!" Sumia chimes in with an infectious smile.

"Alright, fine. Here we go." I take a small bite that still knocks out a significant portion of the remaining pie. A blend of flaky crust and sweet apple chunks and a hint of buttery flavor hits my mouth and melts together all at once. I've never been super crazy about sweets before, but this is by far the best thing I've eaten in recent memory. "Gods, this is amazing. Hard to believe it was just made from trail supplies over an open fire."

"Believe me, Robin, when you've been living on the road as long as I have, you learn to make do," Gaius says with a laugh as I hand the pie back over to him. He turns to Sumia. "There. She tried it, just like you wanted. Now give it a taste yourself while it's still got a little warmth left!"

"Okay!" Sumia takes the pie and takes a bite. I watch as her eyes widen and light up with unbridled joy at the taste. She looks almost ready to cry as she chews. "It'sh sho good~" she says around the bite still in her mouth. "Oh my godsh, Gaiush, I lo– _ulh!_ " she stops herself talking suddenly, but then chokes on the bite in her mouth. She makes more guttural noises, pointing to her throat. Holy shit she really is choking.

"Cripes. Here, don't move, Sumia." Gaius moves quickly, getting behind her and wrapping his arms around her abdomen, wrapping one hand around the other balled into a fist.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Trust me, this works," he replies quickly, then wrenches his hands in and up suddenly, making Sumia retch forward. He does this a couple more times, and after the third time Sumia hurls the bite out of her mouth with a 'gwuh!' and I, standing in front of her, am hit in the face with a mouthful of chewed apple pie.

I almost retch myself as I scramble to get it off me, while Gaius freely laughs at me and Sumia catches her breath, hunched over and coughing. "You alright there, Sumia?" Gaius asks.

After a few deep breaths, she stands upright again. "Yeah. Thanks to you! That was amazing! How did you do that?"

He shrugs. "Like I said, you learn a lot on the trail. Especially when you ride with bandits who don't typically remember to chew their food. Or like in your case, don't remember to swallow before they start talking." He laughs good-naturedly while Sumia shifts around ashamedly. "Hey, come on, I'm kidding. I'm just glad you liked it. And you were so nice you even shared your bite with Robin!"

Sumia's eyes widen. "I did what?"

Before Gaius can answer, I hear someone else shouting from the south side of camp. "Fliers! Incoming fliers from the south! They're not ours!" I look over in the direction of the shouting, and I see one of our Feroxi patrolmen running toward the camp. Above him is a line of dark, wide silhouettes flying well overhead, probably a few dozen feet in the air. I can't make out much else about them from here.

The three of us are quick to mobilize. I pull out my Levin sword, which never really leaves my side just in case things like this happen, and I rush back to the barricades while Gaius and Sumia rush to the armory wagon.

I call up to the squad of ranged fighters set aside to respond to external threats. "Archers, mages, prepare to respond! Fliers from the south! Be ready to fire on my signal!" The squad readies their weapons to open fire.

"Robin? What's happening?" Cordelia calls from behind me, with her other night watchmates, Donnel, Stahl, and Panne, following close behind her.

"Don't know yet. Potential ambush. We're preparing to take them down. Get ready," I say, turning back to face the fliers. "Prepare to fire! Ready! Aim!"

"Wait!" Cordelia cries suddenly. "That's… it is! Those are Ylissean royal guards!"

"Hold fire!" I shout. I turn back to Cordelia. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. That's their standard flying formation, and those are clearly pegasi up there," she says firmly.

As she says this, the five-flier formation slowly dips down, and the group touches down near the center of camp. I motion for Cordelia and the other Shepherds to follow me, and I walk, sword still in hand, to meet the fliers.

"State your names!" I demand, still twenty feet or so away from them and unable to make out their appearances behind the armor and helmets they wear.

The one in the center pulls off her helmet, revealing a head of light grey hair visible even in this dark night underneath it. "My name is Phila, commander of the royal guard."

"Commander Phila?" Cordelia nearly shouts behind me. "Is it really you?"

"Cordelia? Oh gods, am I glad to see you are safe," Phila says, and she and Cordelia rush to meet one another. They throw their arms around one another in a tight but brief embrace.

"Commander, what happened to you? The reports after the battle at Golgotha said you went missing, and the Feroxi that released you couldn't account for where you'd gone," Cordelia asks, saving me the trouble.

"To my shame, we were captured by the enemy, I'm afraid. As we were making our way over the Morzas Mountains back into Ylisse, as per the Feroxi soldiers' instructions, we were ambushed by a troop of patrolling Plegian soldiers and forced to surrender. We were brought to a Plegian stronghold, where we were kept prisoner for months. At last, we recently managed to make our escape," Phila explains.

"With your weapons, armor, and mounts too. Impressive," I say. I don't like this. Something about this doesn't feel right.

"Well, as Cordelia can attest, we in the royal guard never do anything halfway," Phila replies. "You're Robin, correct? Tactician of the Shepherds."

"That's right. I'm in charge of the siege effort on Ylisstol here. I do want to know more about this captivity of yours, though. Where were you being held?" Time to start poking this story a bit.

"The Plegian-occupied Ylissean city of Bartle Hill in Dolphshire province, south of the Azure Mountains, north a ways from Port Warren."

By now the other four fliers have dismounted and removed their helmets as well. They stand on either side of their commander, each a woman in her twenties with what I would consider impractically long hair. I see now where Cordelia gets her aesthetic.

"How did the five of you manage to get away?" I ask. "What became of the town?"

"Well, it certainly wasn't an easy task. We overtook the guards one day as they opened our cell door to give us our daily meal, and found where they had been keeping our weapons and pegasi. We don't know what may have happened in the wake of our escape, but we knew our first duty was to return to the capital and assist with the effort to retake the city."

Hold on. "How were you made aware of our plan to recapture Ylisstol?" I ask. I feel Cordelia's eyes on me from my left, but I don't pay her any mind. I'm sure she doesn't appreciate me interrogating her superior like this, but the safety of the Shepherds comes before decorum every time.

"The guards were discussing it near where we were being held prisoner. It seems the plan for the siege has been made more or less common knowledge among the Plegian occupying forces at this point," she says, with enough of an edge to her tone that it's apparent she knows she's being probed.

"It's true; our communications have been leaked to the Plegian authorities regarding our plans. Let me ask you something else, though. Where you were being held in Bartle Hill, were there any other prisoners?"

"Agitators and those who openly resisted the occupiers were kept prisoner as well, yes."

"Was a priest, a healer among them? Long brown hair, bearded man? I believe you may have met Randall once before."

She shakes her head. "I'm afraid not. Why, has he been captured by the Plegians?"

"Yes and no. He was certainly kidnapped, but according to a secret message delivered to our camp some days ago, he claims not to be held by the Plegians at all. I wondered how that could be the case if one of our allies reported it was a Plegian wyvern rider that carried him off the battlefield in her sight."

She glances briefly off to the side, then looks at me again. "I'm sure I don't know anything about it. We didn't see him in Bartle Hill, in any event."

I do my best not to literally narrow my eyes at her. "Alright. I just wanted to know if anyone has been in contact with him. Of course the siege is important, but so is getting him back, naturally."

She nods. "Right. If I ever come across anything that might hint at his location, I won't hesitate to share it with you. But for now, my fellow knights and I wish to lend our aid to your cause here. May we camp near the Shepherds?"

"That shouldn't be a problem. Anywhere you see open space off the road is fine," I say.

"Thank you, Robin. Er, is that, Commander Robin?"

"Just Robin works fine."

"Alright, Robin. But while my knights set up our camp, I wonder if I might not be allowed an indulgence of my own. I heard rumors that Exalt Emmeryn survived the attempt on her life, and that she's now being kept with you all. Could I see her?" Phila asks with more sincerity than anything else she's said so far.

"I don't see why not. She's in the medical wagon over that way, being watched by Frederick during the night hours." I point in the direction of the medical wagon near camp.

"I thank you, Robin. Both for this indulgence, and more importantly for saving her life. I had heard rumors during my captivity of her survival, but I dared not hope that it might be true until now."

"No thanks are necessary. Just doing our job," I reply.

"Well, then I will head that way posthaste. Farewell for now, Robin."

As Phila begins walking away, I call after her, "Commander Phila, just one question, if it's alright. I don't expect you to know much, but as you may be aware, one of our Shepherds is Maribelle, the daughter of the duke of Themis. Do you know how things are going out in Themis? I'm sure she would appreciate anything you might be able to tell her."

Phila pauses for a moment, then looks over her shoulder at me. "I wish I could tell you more, but I'm afraid I can only speculate. I imagine it's occupied by the Plegians, same as most other major locations in Ylisse. Good night, Robin."

"Good night, Commander Phila."

As I turn to return to my tent, Cordelia stops me with a hand on my shoulder.

"Robin, I have to ask what that was about. It sounded as though you didn't trust Commander Phila. I want to know why," she says with an artificial lack of emotion, actively suppressing what I'm sure is fiery indignation at me.

"I have to evaluate every potential variable, Cordelia. Phila and the others have been gone for months, kept apparently in captivity by the enemy. Anything is possible. I just want to be sure of the people we allow into our circle of trust here. This siege is precarious. One problem that destabilizes things out here will lead to us being overrun. The Plegians inside the city are waiting for the first sign of weakness. I don't want to give it to them."

"Then Commander Phila and the royal guard should be among the first people we count on to help us! Their loyalty should be beyond question!"

"It's not even necessarily a matter of loyalty. I don't know much of Phila's military experience, but so far all I have seen is that her royal guards allowed a gang of would-be assassins into the royal palace, then failed to prevent Exalt Emmeryn from being captured by the Plegian army, then were themselves captured again after they were released from their imprisonment at Golgotha. The question of competency is just as important as the question of loyalty, and I'm not afraid to ask it."

Cordelia huffs irritatedly. "Well, as far as I am concerned, their competence is beyond question as well. You forget that in each of those circumstances, they faced insurmountable odds against a massive enemy host."

"Of course. I don't mean to offend. I just mean to know everything I can. I'm sorry if my line of questioning bothered you."

After a long moment, her expression softens just a hair. "I understand. I'm sure you can understand why it's not easy to see my own commander grilled like that, is all."

"Right. I'll try to go easier on her from here on, if that helps."

She smiles. "Thank you, Robin. I apologize for my touchiness on the subject. I just want to preserve the Shepherds' general policy of trusting those who offer their help, especially if it's someone already so dedicated to our cause."

"You're right. I got ahead of myself. In any case, I'd better get some sleep while I have the chance. I need to see Kellam and Miriel tomorrow about our food worries, which means I'm off to the east gate in the morning."

"Alright. Good night, Robin."

"Take care, Cordelia."

"Oh, Robin? You, um, have something on your face."

My hands fly to my face to brush off whatever might be there, but my fingertips come away sticky. Apple pie filling.

"Thanks, Cordelia."

As I retire to my tent, I go over what I'm thinking about this newest development. Phila knows something. She seemed too shifty in that conversation, and she seemed to actively resist telling me much of anything after she figured out I was interrogating her. She seemed particularly eager to end the conversation once Randall came up. There's more going on here than she's letting on.

And there's no doubt in my mind that Randall's note was dropped from the sky by a flier of some kind. Before now, I had been lightly assuming it may have been the same wyvern rider who kidnapped him in the first place, but now I'm not so sure. This warrants further investigation, for sure.

So much for sleeping soundly for once.

* * *

 _Phila breathes a sigh of equal parts relief and exhaustion as she finally escapes her conversation with the tactician. Randall had warned her that Robin would be unlikely to trust her right away, but that was beyond what she had expected. Robin went straight for the throat, leaving little room for Phila's off-the-cuff inventions to breathe before examining them with a fine-toothed comb for inconsistencies._

 _And she asked specifically about Themis. What was that about? Does she suspect something? Does she know something? Had Randall managed to slip a secret message past her in his letter? Phila begins to feel as though she has unwittingly thrown herself into a small arena with a large bull._

 _Nonetheless, she has something more important on her mind now. She opens the door to the medical wagon and climbs inside. True to Robin's word, asleep on a bedroll on the floor is the Exalt herself, looking as peaceful as she ever did. She hears a noise from the front of the wagon, and looks up to see the point of a lance aimed at her, held aloft by none other than Frederick the Wary himself._

" _Who goes there?" he demands. "State your name."_

" _Frederick, it's Phila. Commander of the royal guard?" She supposes he can't see her silhouetted against the moonlight outside the wagon._

" _Is it really? You've returned to us? Gods, this is wonderful news!" he says, lowering his lance. "We had all worried a great deal when we heard that you and your companions had disappeared. It's a relief to have you safely returned to us."_

" _It's a relief to be back, Sir Frederick. And doubly so to see that the Exalt is alive. I came to see her just as soon as I could," she says._

" _I'm sure you must have worried terribly. Well, I suppose you should be told straight away; the Exalt has lost almost all her memories. She has been hard at work every day to regain the ability to speak normally and function as she used to, but the road ahead will be long yet for her I'm afraid," Frederick says solemnly._

" _I see. Still, she is alive, and that alone accounts for everything, as far as I am concerned," Phila replies._

" _I couldn't agree more, Commander."_

 _As terrifying as Robin might be to face down in an interrogation, it was worth it to see this with her own eyes. The Exalt sleeps so peacefully, more soundly than she ever did as a child. Perhaps being relieved of those memories, all that pain, isn't entirely a curse._

 _Perhaps now the Exalt has the chance to be just Emmeryn. As Lord Aventine has always planned._

* * *

 **A/N: Kept ya waiting, huh? Well, I still managed to get it out before a month had passed, so all things considered, that's not too bad I guess. I'll tell you what's trippy, though. I read the beginning sections of this chapter over again in preparation for posting, and I remembered writing them in a convenience store in Japan. But here as I write the end of the chapter, I'm doing so in my bedroom back in the states. This is the international chapter!  
**

 **As always, Mixed Valence gets big props for his help with this chapter, and a bonus shoutout because as I type this, it's actually his birthday! So if you haven't checked out Earthborne yet, why not give MV the gift of a new reader? NotTheArchitect also needs his serving of recognition, so give The Divine Age a look if you haven't yet. He's still battling with some site formatting issues, but I'll be doing my best to help with that in the coming days since by now I've come to grips with most of this site's little idiosyncrasies. And here is your Mixed Valence out of context quote of the week: "If I really want to drink for results I'll drink mouthwash."**

 **Join the Discord! discord. gg/ 3mdunvc**

 **As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**


	36. Ch 36: Birthdays and Brain-Eaters

**Birth and Re-Death: Two Year Anniversary Special**

 **Chapter 36: Birthdays and Brain-Eaters**

 _Lucina sits quietly a short distance from the Shepherds' camp. She was tempted to join them officially back at Anchorage, but the risk of her father or anyone else seeing her Brand is much too great, especially since the mask she received from Gerome broke those months ago. She really should see about finding a replacement mask. She's fairly sure that Gerome had a few backups for situations just like this._

 _In any case, she is content for now to remain at least nominally hidden from the Shepherds. It's as painful as ever to keep her distance from her father and mother and everyone else she holds dear, but knowing that they are safe is by itself a great comfort._

 _Well, with the exception of Uncle Randy, of course. She hasn't slept once without the mental image of that wyvern carrying his limp body off into the distance haunting her mind's eye well into the night. She knows that many of the Shepherds blame themselves for his capture, but in her heart she knows that if anyone is to blame, it is her. She was the last to see him. She had come so close. She should have left Gangrel and pursued Randall straight away._

 _She shakes her head. What's more important now is the next step. She has yet to decide what that might be, though. She could help with the siege effort, of course, but is that the best use for her? She's trained for years to be able to move quietly, unnoticed until she wishes to be seen. Surely these skills could be put to use somehow. Maybe she should consult with Robin. She resolves to come to a decision about that sooner rather than later._

 _An unexpected sound catches her attention. Is that someone… laughing? In this setting, with the siege going on, it wasn't something she thought she'd be hearing anytime soon. Keeping to the shadows as has been her habit, she curiously approaches the source of the sound, over by the campfire._

 _She sees Sumia sitting with Gaius next to the fire, hard at work preparing some food or other by the look of them. Gaius makes quick work of cutting an apple into tiny chunks, while Sumia mixes other ingredients in a bowl. She's… having some difficulties, evidenced by the splotches of flour visible on her face, her chest, the ground around her, and other assorted incorrect locations. Gaius is having a good-natured laugh at Sumia, which at first seems to make her self-conscious, but after a moment she starts laughing too._

" _I think you, uh, got a little flour there, Sumia," Gaius says between bouts of laughter._

" _Oh, do I?" Sumia replies sarcastically, but then leans over to him and says in an exaggeratedly sultry voice, "Well, maybe I just thought that since I'm so sweet, all I need is a little flour and then I could be your birthday treat."_

 _Gaius looks surprised for a moment, but catches on quickly. "Well then, I'd better not let any go to waste. Oh, would you look at that, you've got some flour on your lip. Let me get that for you." He leans over to meet her halfway, and at this point Lucina's sense of decency forces her to avert her eyes and swiftly quit the scene._

 _She can still feel the heat in her face twenty or so seconds later, when she's put some distance between herself and that private moment. What would Cynthia have thought of that? She can't help but giggle to herself at the notion._

 _So it's Gaius' birthday today? It's been a long while since she's had a chance to celebrate any birthdays, whether her own or others'. Some of her fondest memories from her younger days are of birthdays, particularly her own. Even after her father passed away and things began to spiral out of control, she still had an anchor to the time before things started going wrong in the form of birthdays. As long as she could count on something so simple and innocent, the world wasn't yet too far gone._

 _She sighs as she sits on the cold, frosty grass and leans her back against a lonely, leafless tree with gnarled branches. She closes her eyes and lets herself think back to a time when she could count on birthdays._

* * *

Lucina's twelfth birthday begins to wind down. With all the chaos going on in the world lately, it certainly wasn't the same cake and presents affair that it used to be in her younger days. Still, a few of her closest friends had spent the day with her, and even though most of them had gone home by now (most parents didn't let their children stay out after dark these days), there was a lingering sense of birthday joy. Severa, Owain, and Cynthia were being allowed to stay overnight; the three noisiest children among their little circle, much to Brady's chagrin. Uncle Randy's children had both already fallen asleep, so while they were technically 'staying the night' as well, they weren't really being considered part of the 'sleepover' at the moment. Aunt Lissa and Uncle Randy were here as well to keep the mood festive, but Mother had stepped outside for a bit. Everyone was nice and cozy in the Ylissean royal palace's east lounge on this cool, clear mid-spring evening.

"Well," Uncle Randy says, interrupting the animated chat going on among the four children, "did you have a good birthday, Luci?"

She nods with a small, cute smile. "Mmhmm."

"Good." He stands from the couch where he was sitting with Aunt Lissa until now. "Anything else you want before I hit the road?"

"You're leaving?" she asks. She doesn't quite know why, but she really doesn't want him to go.

The expression on his face is hard to read behind his greying beard. "I've got a lot of work to do yet, Luci. Things are about to get very, very busy around here. I want to be sure that I've made all the preparations I can when that happens."

"Can't you just stay a little longer? Please?" Lucina pleads, putting on her best puppy-dog eyes.

He frowns for a moment, trying to resist, but his resolve visibly cracks with every passing second. Finally, he sighs. "You little shit. Fine." Aunt Lissa giggles.

"Yay!" Lucina rewards Uncle Randy's compliance with a quick and tight hug.

"Never takes more than a cute face and some fluttering eyelashes to break you down, huh Randy?" Aunt Lissa asks with a laugh.

"Hardy-har," he replies in her direction, then turns back to the kids. "Well, since you've successfully trapped me here, it's been a while since I did a song for you all. Does the birthday girl have any requests?"

Lucina hesitates for a moment, then timidly approaches Uncle Randy, prompting him with a hand gesture to bend over enough that she can whisper in his ear. He nods as she tells him what she wants for her birthday song.

He stands up straight again. "Haven't had an excuse to play that one in a while! Sounds like fun. Good choice, Luci." He turns to the sulking ten-year-old in the corner. "Hey Brady, got your violin on hand? We got us a performance to do!"

Brady looks up. "Yeah, what song?" He tries not to look pleased, but Lucina can see the joy behind his eyes at the chance to play a song alongside his mentor.

"I need you… to bring me… some _braaaaains_ ~" Uncle Randy says in a goofily ominous voice, waggling his fingers. Brady nods, then grabs his violin – never far from him – and stands to join Uncle Randy.

"Uugh, this song," Severa grumbles.

"You know the rules, Sev. No protestation of birthday songs," Uncle Randy snaps instantly with a grin on his face to ensure her he isn't actually angry.

"We've literally never said that before!" she protests.

"Well we're starting now. No protestation of birthday songs."

"...Fine."

Brady finishes tuning his violin. "Okay, ready?" he asks Uncle Randy.

"Ready. Go for it, bud."

Brady begins playing the first notes of the song, long and haunting strokes of the bow across the strings, before launching into the uptempo part of the song. Uncle Randy's children in the corner stir for a moment, as if considering waking up, but then settle back down, deciding against it. Lucina can't help but start clapping to the beat excitedly before Uncle Randy starts singing in his exaggerated, goofy voice (Uncle Randy had once called it his 'Vaudeville voice'):

" _Well, hello there, little girl! Don't be shy!_

 _Step right up! I'm a reasonable guy!_

 _Don't be frightened by the look in my eye;_

 _I'm just your average evil meteor from outta the sky."_

The door to the lounge opens, and in strolls Mother. She doesn't say anything for courtesy of her son's playing, but she looks at her sister-in-law questioningly. Aunt Lissa just grins and continues bobbing her shoulders to the beat.

" _Well, I'm just shy and scared in this place,_

 _I'm just a fish outta water from outer space._

 _You can see that the trip has left me tired and drained,_

 _So why don't you be a pal... and bring me some BRAINS!?"_

"Oh, this ghastly song," Lucina hears Mother sigh as she takes a seat next to Aunt Lissa.

"Aw, be a sport, Maribelle," Aunt Lissa says with a nudge of her elbow. "Look how good Brady's doing!"

Lucina tunes the women out and focuses on the song. Uncle Randy plays the part well, looking every bit like the caricature of a stage play villain with his wide movements and erratic facial expressions as he sings about devouring everyone's brains and turning them into zombies. It's all Lucina can do to keep from laughing outright at the display.

The song nears its end, and Uncle Randy crouches in front of Lucina for the last verse:

" _You've been swell to go around_

 _And bring me every single brain in town_

 _But with all these brains, I can't help but think_

 _That there isn't one left out there to drink._

 _Now fess up, girl, come on, heck!_

 _Is there someone that you're trying to protect?_

 _Bring her down here to meet her end_

 _And I promise I'll be your bestest friend."_

As he sings, he points pretend-covertly over to Mother, sitting and watching with a skeptical expression on her face. While he stands to begin the last refrain, Lucina dutifully leaps to her feet, scurries over to Mother, and grabs her by the hand to lead her over to the 'evil meteor' so he can eat her brain. Mother rolls her eyes but plays along, allowing herself to be brought to the villain as he finishes:

" _Brains..._

 _Bring me her brain..._

 _Bring me her brain!_

 _Bring me her braaaain! Whahahahahahaaaah!"_

With that, he pantomimes taking a large chomp out of one of her drills of hair, then biting closer and closer until at last, he reaches and eats her brain. She stands there, waiting for the next part of the act. When it becomes clear that she isn't going to play dead, he instead seizes up and play-writhes all the way down to the floor.

"Gaaaah! Her braaaain! It was too _spicy_! Noooo! Blehhh," he moans as the evil meteor meets its maker, prompting laughs from all the children who are still awake. A moment later, he springs to his feet, and he and Brady take their bow together while the children and Aunt Lissa clap enthusiastically. Eventually, reluctantly, Mother joins them in clapping as well.

* * *

Hours later, in the deepest part of the night, Lucina wakes up to find her throat is intolerably dry. She rises carefully from her bed, taking pains not to nudge Severa or Cynthia enough to wake them as she slithers out from between them, steps over Owain snoring on the floor, and quietly leaves the room. She creeps down the moonlit hallway toward the kitchen, the only thing breaking the silence being the light slapping of her bare feet on chilly marble. However, as she nears the door to the lounge, another sound catches her attention. She approaches the door and finds she can hear the voices faintly on the other side of it. She very slowly, very carefully cracks the door just enough that she can make out the words coming through the gap.

"I don't get why you don't just play along, Mari. It's just a song, it's not like she's actually expressing a desire to feed you to an alien invader. It's a game," Uncle Randy says. She's not used to hearing him speak in such a serious tone. He's normally such a goofball.

"I just… I don't understand why she even likes something as vile as a song about feeding your loved ones to a brain-eating monster. A child shouldn't be exposed to things like that," Mother replies.

"Yeah, well, there's lots of things these kids have seen that they shouldn't have been exposed to. And there'll be plenty more down the line."

"Then why add to the list? Why not let their stories be about happy things, peaceful lands, puppies? Something to hope for?" Mother asks.

"They're gonna have to learn to come to terms with the world they're going to grow up in, Mari. They've gotta learn to live with being afraid sometimes. If they can cope with fear even just a bit, they'll be ahead of the curve, for sure," Uncle Randy explains. "And… I dunno, Maribelle, there's something valuable in a good ghost story, you know? These kids are going to have so many things that they'll have every right and reason to be afraid of someday. They don't know how bad things already are, but we won't be able to keep the illusion up forever. So just this once, it's nice to be able to tell a scary story, but at the end of it lean forward and assure them that none of it's real. The monster is fake. There's no alien coming to eat your brain. Why not let them point some of that fear at something they know deep down can't hurt them?"

A long moment of silence passes. "I suppose I see your point. You're simply too good at talking people into a corner, Randy. You'd have made an excellent politician, I'm positive."

"Yeah, well, not much use for politicking these days, huh?" Uncle Randy replies. "All that's left now is keeping the kids safe for as long as we can and praying things pan out. That's all we can do in this timeline now."

"Randy…" Mother says. "Randy."

To Lucina's shock, she hears a sniffle. "I'm sorry, Mari. I'll get a grip in just a sec, promise. I just… I miss her. I miss her so goddamn much. I know you're the same with Chrom, but…" He doesn't go on.

When Mother replies, she too is clearly either crying or just barely holding it back. "It's okay. I know. I know better than anyone. It's okay."

Lucina hears a few deep breaths as Uncle Randy calms himself down. "Alright. I'm good. Just had a little moment there. Sorry. Today's supposed to be happy. I can be happy. Our kids are safe. We're safe. I'm good."

"Right. We're going to be alright," Mother replies. "You sit there. I'm going to make us up some tea."

The sound of shifting fabric sends a shock of adrenaline through her chest as she realizes she needs to hide. She quickly ducks under a nearby bench before the door opens and Mother steps out of the lounge. Lucina forces herself to breathe very, very slowly and quietly while Mother goes down the hallway toward the kitchen. Realizing that her own trip to the kitchen must now be postponed, she prepares to head back to her room. But as she starts walking away, something in her prompts her to go back. She steps into the lounge and sees Uncle Randy sitting on the couch with his forehead leaned against his palm.

As she draws closer, Uncle Randy notices her coming. "Damn, that was qui- _whoa_!" He reels back a moment, startled. "Oh, Jesus, it's you, Luci. You spooked me. What're you still doing up?" The redness around his eyes is evident, but Lucina knows better than to point it out.

"Got thirsty. Went to get some water," Lucina replies. "Mother was in the hall though, so I didn't want her to see me up."

"Well, that's a smart idea, I guess. She'd probably be pretty ticked." Uncle Randy isn't as talkative or as smiley as usual.

Lucina sits next to him on the couch. After a brief moment of internal debate, she decides she will indeed reach over and hug him from the side. He lets out a single through-the-nose chuckle, then puts his arm on her shoulders.

"You heard me and your mom, huh?"

She nods silently, which he feels against the side of his chest.

"I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to see grown-ups lose their cool like that. We're supposed to be strong for you kids," he says, with the shadow of his habitual levity in his voice as he tries desperately to be his usual self. "But I'm afraid that pretty soon, we're gonna have to ask you kids to be strong too."

Lucina doesn't know what to say. She decides to squeeze just a bit tighter instead of replying with words.

"It's not that I don't think you can do it. I just don't want you to have to. I want you all to be kids for as long as possible, full stop. I want to sing silly songs with you all. I want to stay strong enough to lift Cynthia on my shoulders and pretend I'm a pegasus. I want to be able to make all the whooshy-whooshy sound effects Owain wants as we go on epic adventures." He glances at his children, still asleep on the pile of cushions in the corner. "I want to watch my kids grow into happy, healthy people with families of their own someday."

Lucina nestles closer, comfortable against the soft fabric of Uncle Randy's shirt. He almost whispers, "Promise that you'll stay a kid for as long as you can, Luci, okay? And keep the others kids as long as you can manage it."

Through her dry throat, she croaks, "Promise." Her eyes threaten to flutter shut for the night.

"Thanks, Luci. Now come on." With a swift motion, Uncle Randy scoops her up into his arms and carries her back down the hallway to her room. Stepping inside, he crosses the room toward her bed, but yelps in surprise as he trips on Owain sleeping on the floor, dropping Lucina onto the bed and waking up everyone in the room in the process.

"Gruh! What, who goes there?" Owain moans from the floor.

"Shuddup Owain," Severa replies automatically, her voice thick with sleep.

"Don' be so mean, Severa," Cynthia replies in turn, her voice equally drowsy.

Lucina, her hair messed up from her fall, looks up at Uncle Randy, who looks with concern down at her to make sure she's unharmed. Once it's established that everyone's okay, Lucina and Uncle Randy mutually cover their mouths to hide the laughter that threatens to burst through. Snickering with quiet desperation, Uncle Randy sneaks back over to the door and puts a finger to his smiling lips as he closes the door behind him. Lucina returns the gesture with equal mirth.

It doesn't take long for Lucina to fall asleep again, drink or no drink.

* * *

 _Lucina sighs as she pulls herself from her reverie. That was one of the last truly carefree moments she can recall. She clings to the memory and the warm feeling it puts in her chest as if they were a precious heirloom. As she curls up to sleep, the tree's exposed roots her pillow, she puts a finger to her lips and allows herself to smile, thinking about that spring night all those years ago._

* * *

 **A/N: Didn't expect that, didja? Today marks two years since I started publishing Birth and Re-Death, and I wanted to do something special for it. I thought having a nice glimpse into what the future was like would be a nice break from all the craziness of the present, and I wanted to add some levity, because God knows we won't have much during the siege. My thanks go out to Mixed Valence as usual and Derek from the Discord for making sure this little blurb of a chapter was good before I put it up. And here is your Mixed Valence out of context quote of the week: "Virizion = Verizon + Virion"  
**

 **I have so much more story to share with you guys, and I want to sincerely thank you for putting up with me thus far. I know that I've become a better writer through this project, and it's the encouragement that you all have given me that motivates me to keep going even when the going gets tougher. Thank you all!**

 **For the curious, the song I used was "Brains!" by Voltaire. You might remember it from the undisputed best episode of The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy: "Little Rock of Horrors."**

 **Join the Discord! discord. gg/ 3mdunvc**

 **As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!**


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